


Secrets of the Night

by Swiftlet_in_the_Cloud



Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: As much violence and blood (or less) as seen in an episode of Criminal Minds or Supernatural, Brief torture scene, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 15:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9392369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swiftlet_in_the_Cloud/pseuds/Swiftlet_in_the_Cloud
Summary: When the BAU is called in for a series of gruesome, unexplainable murders close to home, a member's past connection with one of the Winchester brothers might be the key to solving this case or be the end of the team.***Originally posted on ff.net in 2012.  Completed Jan. 19, 2017. ***





	1. Gruesome Murders

Supernatural X Criminal Minds

 **Author's Note:** AU after _Supernatural_ episode "Bedtime Stories" in Season 3 and _Criminal Minds_ episode "7 Seconds" in Season 3. It will include the beginning of _Supernatural_ episode "Red Sky at Morning" and _Criminal Minds_ episode "About Face," though in a different context. David Rossi is also a member of the current BAU team, returning three episodes ago in "Scared to Death" instead of in "About Face."

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspects of _Criminal Minds_ or _Supernatural_. All copyrights go to their respective companies and entities. All OCs, thoughts, and musings, when not quoted, are mine though.

_**Minor grammatical revision:** 1/19/17_

**xxxxxxx**

_**Then:** _

_**Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. November 10, 2002** _

"I love you, Jen." Already she could tell that she would not like what was coming next. He only ever called her "Jen" when it was something serious, knowing that she hated the name.

"I love you," he said again. "Much more than I thought I would, much more than I thought possible," he breathed as he held her close. _Maybe for the last time_ , he thought grimly. He knew she could hear him; she had been awake for a while, tracing figure eights on his chest.

The two of them were in her room again, and he loved it there. It didn't matter to him that her room was covered with soccer posters and butterfly paintings, that there was a dart board hanging on the back of her door, that it was one of the strangest female rooms he had ever been in. He loved it all because he loved her and because her room was one of the few places that offered him a sense of stability he secretly craved for, but dared not pursue.

He had been surprised the first time he had seen the pictures of them together framed and displayed on her drawers for all to see, but now he couldn't imagine her room without them. He cherished these morning moments the most, with the two of them just lying in bed together, bathing in each other's company. With his earlier thoughts in mind, he pulled her even closer, savouring her presence and every little second they have together.

She knew what was going to come next. The two of them had never meant for it to get so serious so fast when they first started seeing each other, but it was inevitable the more time they spent together. She knew that with what he did for a living, his duty, what they had would not last, but she could not bring herself to regret any minute of the time they spent together. She wanted to stop what was coming, or at least tried to hold on to their moment a little longer. "De –"she started, but was quickly interrupted by him.

"No, stop," he cut in; his chest vibrating beneath her, tickling her. "Just let me finish."

She didn't want to because it would mean that _they_ would be finished soon, but she stopped herself anyway. She didn't want to argue with him, not when she knew they had so little time left together.

"Jen," he began again as he toyed with strands of her honey-golden hair. "I love you. I really do, and that's why I need to leave. What I do..." he stopped and started again. "With my family business, I've made a lot of enemies, dangerous enemies. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if one of them found out about you and came after you to get back at me. If I were the reason you got hurt ..." he left the thought hanging, afraid that if he finished it, he might jinxed them.

He didn't need to; she knew all too well what could happen if one of the monsters he fought found out about her connection to him. That was how they met anyway, him saving her from ...what was it that he called the creature again? A Wendigo? Anyway, it was more two years ago when... She quickly pushed the haunted thoughts out of her mind before the memories could assault her. Focusing back to the present, she replied, "I know. I understand why you think you have to leave, but stay, please. I can handle them."

"Maybe, but I won't risk it," he stated with a sense of finality. "I rather you stay out of the supernatural world. I'm leaving, and that's that," he declared as he moved to get up.

Sensing that any argument would be fruitless, she moved to follow her lover. "Alright. Fine," she gave in. "I know you have to leave, but let me have today. Let _us_ have today." His resolve melted as she captured his lips in hers.

When she woke up the next morning, the space beside her was empty, and she knew that he was gone from her life, possibly forever.

**xxxxxx**

_**Now:** _

_**Dumfries, Virginia. October 27, 2007** _

Jenna Tomson was the kind of girl who believed that everything happened for a reason so when she found herself in her current predicament, it was safe to say that her belief system was completely shattered. Bounded and gagged to a standard wooden chair, Jenna tried to block out the screams and pleas of the man being tortured in front of her. Letting out a whimper, she didn't how much longer she could endure the psychological torture she knew her captors were doing to her.

As if they could read her thoughts, one of demented monsters walked toward her. Leaning down to wipe away the tears that were trailing down her cheeks, her torturer said with a chuckle, "Don't worry, sweetie. It'll be your turn soon. No need to get impatient."

Jenna couldn't take it anymore after that. She screamed and cried and struggled against her bonds like her life depended on it. Her futile efforts only served to amuse her captor even more as he patted her cheek again, leaving blood sticking to her face and clinging to strands of her honey-golden hair.

Satisfied with his work, the demented man turned to join his partner in carving up what was left of their male victim. Aside from the laughter and screams of pleasure every time either one of their victims cries or screams from pain, the pair continued filleting their unfortunate subject in silence.

At last, as if bored, the leader of the pair wiped the blood from her face as she turned to set the carving knife that she was using back in the tray of torture instruments at the foot of the blood-stained metal bed. "Enough," she commanded, speaking for the first time since Jenna's abduction. "Get rid of this useless meat suit. We'll start on the other one first thing tomorrow." Her tone remained light and eager even as the object of her statement struggled and screamed against her bonds.

At the instruction, the latter of the pair set about dumping what was left of their plaything into two large, black trash bags before heading out the door, stopping once to run his blood-stained hand through Jenna's golden hair again. Earning a shudder and some more struggles from the poor girl for his troubles, the immoral man laughed with pleasure as he left the room.

Amused by her partner's antics, the raven-haired woman, not to be outdone, stalked toward her scared stiff audience. Catching a few strands of her prey's hair, she chuckled, "I can see why he likes running his hands through your hair so much. Smooth as silk the thing is." Grasping Jenna's tear-stricken face firmly in her hand when the girl had tried to move away, the dark-haired torturer cooed, "Don't worry. We'll try to be gentle." Laughing, she straightened up to leave, but not before ripping away, none too gently, the duct tape that was keeping her victim silent. As screams of agony filled the dark, dungeon-like room, the demented woman strolled away, cackling while she thought of all the fun she would have with the female human the following morning.

**xxxxxx**

_**Quantico, Virginia. October 30, 2007.** _

No one can say that the FBI lacked spirit after seeing the BAU bullpen on the Eve of Halloween. There were plastic Jack-O-Lanterns on every desks; each wearing the classic grin. There were orange and black streamers hanging off doors and stairs, and decorative masks, some black and white, some solid red, lying on file cabinets and desks.

To add to this festive atmosphere, Dr. Spencer Reid, residential genius of the renowned BAU, limped in, decked out in costumes, unknown to his teammates, Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss, as he sneaked up behind them. With a mask of Frankenstein's monster and a noose around his neck, Reid quietly crept up behind Morgan who was busy reading one of the many case files on his desk. "Grr. Grr. I'm going to eat you," Reid growled as he leaned close.

Morgan turned around at the sound of his colleague's voice before he quickly pulled back, obviously startled by Reid's close proximity and headwear, earning a chuckle from Prentiss, who despite Reid's best effort to be stealthy, had indeed notice him the moment he hobbled in. "Reid," Morgan exclaimed, annoyance colored his voice.

Reid ignored Morgan's displeasure as he moved to his desk in front of the pair. He nonchalantly greeted the two with a smile, "Happy All Hallow's Eve, folks." As he took off the Frankenstein's monster mask and the noose, he continued excitedly, "It's a paraphrase from Celtic mythology. Tomorrow night all order is suspended, and the barriers between the natural and the supernatural are temporally remooooved!" Prentiss laughed again as Reid playfully tossed her a full-faced monster mask with shrunken teeth from the large, brown paper bag he was carrying.

"See, that right there is why Halloween creep me out," Morgan pointed out before turning back to his reading.

"You're scared of Halloween?" Reid questioned, somewhat surprised that the ever fearless agent could be afraid of something.

"I didn't say I was scared," Morgan denied, all too quickly. "I said I was crept out. There's a difference there, youngster. You should look it up," he said, hoping to get Reid off his back.

Oblivious to his friend's discomfort, Reid questioned, "What creeps you out about it?" He couldn't really get why Morgan wouldn't like Halloween, a fun and sugary-sweet holiday.

Seeing that he was going to be a part of this conversation for the long run, Morgan closed the file he was trying to read and tossed it back on his desk while Prentiss rolled her chair closer, curious to hear Morgan's answer. "I don't know," Morgan started. "People wearing masks. I just don't like folks in disguises," he stated.

"It's the best thing about Halloween!" Reid exclaimed as he looked at Prentiss, surprised by Morgan's lack of love for the amusing holiday. "You can to be anyone you want to be!" Reid remarked as he tossed Morgan a piece of candy from his stash.

"Nan. I'm pretty good just being me," stated Morgan as he popped the piece of candy Reid gave him in his mouth.

Amused by her teammates, Prentiss interjected, " Yeah. Why is it that neither of those points of views surprises me?"

"You know what though?" Morgan began, clearly enjoying this conversation now that no one thought he was scared of Halloween anymore. "On the flip side, it does provide a pretty good reason to cozy up with a scary flick and a little Halloween honey," he revealed as he clicked his tongue and winked at Prentiss.

"Eww," said Prentiss, disturbed and definitely regretting egging Morgan on. "And Halloween honey? That's n - Now I'm crept out."

"What creeps you out?" questioned a new voice from behind Prentiss and Morgan.

"Rossi!" greeted Reid as the newest member of the team, David Rossi, moved to stand next to him.

"Hey," chorused Prentiss and Morgan. "We're just discussing Morgan's idea of a perfect Halloween," Prentiss replied to the older man's question from earlier. "What's your idea of perfect Halloween night, Rossi?" she asked, curious.

"Well," started Rossi, "I think it's a perfect time to cozy up with a scary flick and a little Halloween honey." Seeing the disturbed and somewhat disgusted look on Prentiss's face as soon as he said those words, Rossi let out the chuckles he had been holding in since he had walked in the BAU earlier and caught the end of his teammates' conversation.

"Not you too!" Prentiss exclaimed the same time Reid asked "Wait, seriously?"

"Sorry," replied Rossi, "I just couldn't resist! Although, Morgan, while I do think that is a good idea, I happen to like hosting masquerade balls much better. In fact," Rossi continued, "I'm hosting one this year, and you are all invited, of course."

A smile appeared on Prentiss's face as she traded a glance with Morgan. "Cool," replied the latter, "when's the party?"

"You know, masquerade balls were extended into costumed public festivities in Italy during the 16th century Renaissance. They were generally elaborate dances held for members of the upper classes, and were particularly popular in Venice," commented Reid.

Turning to his genius of a teammate, Rossi stared at Reid for a moment before he replied, "Thank you, Reid."

Seeing Rossi's response, Morgan gave a chuckle and popped another piece of candy in his mouth. "You'll get use to that," assured Prentiss with a smile.

"Riiight," was all Rossi could say before Hotch's voice was heard, calling to his team. "Guys, JJ has a case for us," said the Unit Chief as he moved from his office to the briefing room, stopping at the threshold to wait for the rest of his team.

"Coming," replied Reid as the four headed up to the briefing room. They were greeted as they entered the room with the sight to their chief Aaron Hotchner sitting at the head of the table with JJ at the opposite end.

"Hey guys," greeted Jennifer Jareau, the team's Communications Liaison. "We've caught a bad one." The furrows of her brows and the frown on her face only added to the upset that could be heard in her voice. As she turned to the screen behind her, the rest of the team moved to sit around the wooden oval table.

"Oh my God," gasped Prentiss in horror as she leafed through the case file in front of her. Even Morgan, Reid, and Rossi were unable to keep the looks of horror and disgust from showing on their faces as they looked at their files. Hotch's grim visage was enough for Prentiss to know that he too had seen the monstrosities in the manila folders.

"All the wounds and dismemberments appeared to have happened antemortem," Reid choked out.

"There has been a series of unexplained gruesome murders in Dumfries, Virginia," started JJ. "Trey Baxter, 29, went missing from his apartment on October 21st. No sign of forced entries." A photo of a fairly handsome white male with green eyes and short-cropped, dark brunette hair appeared on the screen behind her. "Three days later, two large, black trash bags with Trey Baxter's name taped to them appeared in his apartment, which was taped off as a crime scene, by the way. No witnesses and again, no sign of forced entries. Inside those bags were the remains of Trey Baxter." Another photo appeared on the screen, this time of two bloody trash bags that contained the remains of the smiling young man; each had a piece of white printer paper attached to it with the victim's name written in blood.

"Now, given the state of the remains, identification was only possible because the Unsub appears to want us to know who the remains belong to. Aside from the name tags, there was only one perfect finger on top of the bags, and it matches the victim's prints," Hotch continued.

"It says here that his name was written by the second victim, Lauren Abbott." Morgan spoke from his seat at Hotch's left side.

"Yes," answered JJ. "Local PD was able to get a print off of the bloody writing. They thought they'd caught a break until it came back as Lauren Abbott, 24." A photo a young blonde came up on the screen. "Now, at first local PD thought that maybe she wasn't a victim after all since she did disappear from her locked apartment where there were no signs of forced entries on October 23rd, a day before Trey Baxter's remains were found. However, that idea was quickly disregarded when two trash bags containing Lauren Abbott's remains appeared on the 26th." Again a photo with two bloody trash bags, each had a piece of white printer paper attached to it with the victim's name written in blood, appeared on the screen behind JJ.

"And again, identification was only possible because of the name tags and the finger?" asked Rossi from Hotch's right.

"Apparently that's the Unsub's MO, along with no signs of forced entries and the name tags being written in blood by the next victim," Hotch replied.

"Victim #3 is Blake Martin, 27," read Reid from his seat next to Morgan. A photo of a fairly handsome white male with brown eyes and short-cropped, brunette hair popped up in the screen. "Disappeared from his apartment on October 25th; again no signs of forced entries. Only this time, his roommate Hunter Bradley, 28, was killed in his sleep, throat slit, bled to death, when Blake Martin was taken." A picture of a white male with shaggy blonde hair appeared next to that of his roommate followed by a photo of him the night of the murder. There was blood everywhere; his throat slit deep enough that parts of his trachea were visible.

"Whoever this Unsub is, he has no qualm against collateral damage, even if it doesn't threaten his chance of taking a victim," commented Prentiss next to Rossi. "Hunter Bradley was killed simply because he was there. This Unsub is sadistic. He didn't just quickly end Hunter Bradley's life; he left his victim there to bleed to death while he kidnapped Blake Martin."

"Dumfries PD invited us in because of the gruesomeness of these murders, but also because aside from having no leads on the Unsub, they have no idea how he is able to get into secured locations undetected. Blake Martin's and Hunter Bradley's apartment was an active crime scene, yet somehow the Unsub was able to return three days later undetected to leave behind the remains of Blake Martin." JJ brought up once more a photo with two bloody trash bags; this time with Blake Martin's name on them.

"Bloody prints on them belong to Jenna Tomson, 25." A picture of a beautiful girl with honey-golden blonde hair appeared on the screen. "She was taken from her apartment on October 27th. No signs of forced entries. Nothing seemed out of place. Her remains were found this morning by Dumfries PD." Once again a photo of two bloody trash bags appeared on the screen following JJ's statement.

"Jenna Tomson's name was written by Robert Jackson, 28, reported missing from his house yesterday following the death of his wife, Elizabeth Jackson, 27." A portrait of a fair young woman with hair the color of deep burgundy and golden-brown eyes, smiling as she hugged a fairly handsome Caucasian male with short-cropped light brunette hair and hazel eyes appeared on the screen. "Elizabeth Jackson was killed the same way Hunter Bradley was. Throat slit and left to bleed to death while her husband was taken."

A photo of the same carefree woman from before appeared on the screen, except this time, she was lying in a bloody bed. Her white silk nightgown riddled with blood spatters. Her cheerful golden-brown eyes from before now dulled and dead stared aimlessly at the ceiling. The beautifully, horrid blood-red ribbon at her neck was only ruined by the whites of her trachea.

"Whoever did this is pure evil," said Rossi, the disgust and anger in his voice were evident for all to hear.

"That's six bodies in the space of nine days, not counting the missing Robert Jackson," said Morgan. "Why weren't we called in earlier?" he asked, frustrated.

"The first two cases Dumfries PD didn't think were connected because of change in gender of the victims. Their lab also took a while to match the bloody prints to the following victims. The murders of the roommate and the wife were also unexpected so by the time they called us, the body counts had grown greatly," explained Hotch. "Now, look. I know this is bad."

"Now, that's an understatement," inputted Prentiss.

"And it is close to home," continued Hotch. "But we have to keep a clear head going into this. We will handle this like we do any other cases. We look at the crime scenes, the dumpsites, the remains, the victimology, and we build a profile. We will catch this Unsub." Hotch's tone indicated that there would be no discussion about that. They would catch this Unsub no matter what.

 


	2. And So It Begins

_**Now:** _

_**9: 00 A.M. Dumfries, Virginia. October 30, 2007.** _

Since the drive to Dumfries' Police Station had only taken twelve minutes, taking the jet would have been a waste of time, time that they didn't have. Prentiss could see that Dumfries' Chief of Police and Captain were trying to keep a brave face as they made introduction, but she knew that the last nine days must have been hell for them. The case frustrated and scared her, and she'd only just known about it this morning. She was taken out of her musing as JJ introduced the team.

"Chief Forker, Captain Wards, I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau, Communications Liaison. You can call me JJ. We spoke earlier on the phone," said JJ as she shook hands with the Chief and the Captain. Turning to her team, she continued, "This is our Unit Chief, Senior Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, SSA David Rossi, SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Emily Prentiss, and Dr. Spencer Reid."

"If it is alright with you, Agent Prentiss and I would like to visit the crime scenes," said Morgan all business-like. "And if you could show Agent Rossi and Dr. Reid to where you kept the remains, it would be much appreciated."

"Of course," replied Chief Forker, "anything you need. Thank you so much for coming."

"No need to thank us; it's what we do," assured JJ. _Because really, I should have caught this case earlier, even if we weren't invited in yet_ , she thought. It was her fault that the team just found out about it today. It was her job to keep an eye out for things like this. Dumfries was practically in their backyard, and she couldn't even keep it safe.

So deep was she in her thoughts that JJ missed Hotch's request for the victims' files, a whiteboard, and a place to set up their command center. She didn't even notice it when Chief Forker left with Prentiss and Morgan to the victims' homes or when Captain Wards led Reid and Rossi to the morgue. JJ didn't even hear Hotch the first he asked her to help him set up the command center.

"JJ," Hotch repeated.

"Hmm?" she replied at last as she turned to face him. "Sorry, I was just, you know, thinking."

As if he had read her mind, Hotch said, "JJ, it's not your fault. We had other cases. We were busy in Denver and Woodbridge before we caught this case."

"And on the way back from Woodbridge, we passed by Dumfries, Hotch. If I had known then, we would have been here five days earlier. We could have saved Blake Martin, Hunter Bradley, Jenna Tomson, and Elizabeth and Robert Jackson." Grief and regret were evident in her voice.

"We could still save Robert Jackson." He felt her pain, and it cut him deeply, but they couldn't afford to worry about the "what-ifs" with so many dead and possibly more coming.

"What are the chances he's even still alive, Hotch?" JJ exclaimed. "You saw what happened to the others. Robert Jackson is probably already dead and in pieces. And it's all on me, Hotch, me. It's my job to be on the look-out for this sort of things and make sure we get there to help before it's too late." All those bloods were on her hands, and she was never going to be able to cleanse herself of them no matter how much good she did.

"I need you to calm down, JJ." Hotch's voice cut through her thoughts. "What happened has already happened. We can't change any of that. Sure, we could have arrived five days earlier, and Blake Martin, Hunter Bradley, Jenna Tomson, and Elizabeth Jackson could still have been killed. We can't worry about "what-ifs" right now, but we can start looking for whoever did this. And we will find this Unsub, JJ. We will." There so much determination and drive in his voice that JJ couldn't help but believe that they would succeed in stopping this Unsub.

Looking at her boss, she gave him a bleak smile. "Thanks, Hotch. I'll try to keep a clearer head on this case," JJ said as she set about helping him set up their command center in one of the empty conference rooms.

**xxxxxx**

_**The Jacksons' Home** _

As they approached yellow crime scene tape in front of the creamy white house, Morgan wondered if maybe they would finally get lucky here and find some sort of clues that would lead them to the Unsub. The last four victims' apartments had been irritatingly spotless save for some sort of yellow powder near the doors and the bloody bedroom where Hunter Bradley was killed.

Searching around in the Jacksons' bedroom in vain looking for any sort of clues, Morgan turned to Prentiss, hoping she had better luck. Seeing Prentiss's expression that said otherwise, Morgan said at last, "Alright, so I'm the Unsub. How do I keep the husband under my control while I subdue and kill his wife, who unlike Hunter Bradley, was awake and put a fight?"

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Prentiss turned to face Morgan. With her hands on her hips, she casted a searching look around the room before suggesting, "Umm...I don't. I would need a partner for that. My partner would keep Robert Jackson under control while I deal with the wife." Her voice cleared and her tone turned hopeful as she came to that realization.

"A team would explain the change in victimology and them getting around without anyone seeing. One to keep a lookout and the other to do the deed," chided Morgan, excited that they were finally making process with the case.

"Let's regroup and see what the rest of the team found. We're done here anyway," said Prentiss as she headed downstairs with Morgan right behind her.

**xxxxxx**

_**Dumfries Morgue** _

"-Now if you gents could just follow me through here," called Captain Wards as she led Reid and Rossi through the double door into to the city's morgue.

Inside, the three were greeted by the sight a rotund middle-aged man with kind face and thinning hair in a white lab coat. He was standing next the body of a young woman with even-paler-than-normal skin and red-burgundy hair that had turned dull since her death. Seeing his visitors, the man turned to greet them. " G'd Morning, Captain Wards, gentlemen."

"Dr. Woody," acknowledged Captain Wards. Gesturing to two men behind her, she continued, "This is Agent Rossi and Dr Reid. Would you show them the remains?" Upon seeing the doctor's confirmation, she turned back to the two agents. "Now, if you could excuse me, I have to get back out there. See you gents later then. Dr. Woody." Nodding to each man, she disappeared through the double doors.

Turning to Rossi and Reid, Dr. Woody gave them a weak smile as he gestured to the four body bags and the one other body in the room. "There isn't much to show you for the remains of Trey Baxter, Lauren Abbott, Blake Martin, and Jenna Tomson. They are all in bits and pieces." Moving to unzip the nearest body bag next him, the doctor stepped back as Reid and Rossi took their turn to examine the bloody bits. "The most I can tell you," Woody continued, "is that most of the mutilations, dismemberments, and dissections occurred antemortem, while the victims were still alive. I'm sorry, agents, but given the state of the remains, there isn't much I can tell you."

Reid's face paled while Rossi puffed out a sigh of frustration. "Well, what can you tell us about the bodies of Hunter Bradley and Elizabeth Jackson?"

Moving to stand in the area between the two autopsy tables that held the remains of Hunter Bradley and Elizabeth Jackson, Woody began, "Unlike Elizabeth Jackson, the only wound on Hunter Bradley is the throat slit that killed him." The doctor paused to indicated the wound in question. "The carotid arteries and the trachea were severed in one swift cut."

"So whoever did this felt no reservation or hesitation?" asked Reid.

Woody nodded as he continued, " It's a practiced hand, swift and efficient."

"That means Hunter Bradley wasn't the first person the Unsub killed that way. There could be other victims out there killed the same way, with their throat slit wide open." _How many more victims of this Unsub have we missed_ , wondered Rossi. "And Elizabeth Jackson?" He turned to indicate to the body on the other side of him.

"She had defensive wounds on both of her arms." Lifting first the lifeless woman's limp left arm and then her right, the doctor indicated to the black and blue bruises that covered her arms. "I was able to retrieve some skin from under her fingernails, but the only thing that came back was a match to her husband."

"Robert Jackson?" questioned Reid. "She fought her husband?"

"I don't know if that was who she fought, but that was the only foreign DNA I was able to retrieve. The throat slit that killed Elizabeth Jackson though was identical to that of Hunter Bradley. A single and efficient cut that show no sign of hesitation, severing the carotid arteries and the trachea."

Reid traded a glance with Rossi before he replied, "Thank you, Dr. Woody. I think that is all we need for now." He then turned to leave with Rossi right behind him after the older agent had thank the doctor.

Falling into steps with his partner, Rossi asked, "So what are you thinking? That Robert Jackson might not be a victim after all?"

"Well, I don't know, Rossi," replied Reid as he put his hands in his pockets. Turning his face to Rossi, he continued, "If it was Robert, then he has to be some cruel monster because Elizabeth was his wife, and the knife wound showed no signs of hesitation. Plus, why kill her? She doesn't fit the profile of other female victims."

Twisting the ring on his right hand, Rossi thought for a moment before continuing, "You're right. She doesn't fit with the other female victims, but her husband does with the other male victims."

As the two exited into the sunlit parking lot, Reid commented, "Yeah, I think he was the intended target here, and Elizabeth Jackson was collateral damage just like Hunter Bradley."

By the time the team had regrouped back at the station, it was high noon. Hotch and JJ had already filled up the whiteboard with pictures of the victims and of the crime scenes and any key information. Lunch in the form of take-outs were delivered by a young woman as the team gathered around their temporary round table.

The first pair up to share their findings so far was Hotch and JJ as everyone else got situated in their spots and with their meals. There wasn't much new information the two who had stayed behind at the station could offer since their victims had ran in different social circles and didn't know each other except for the two roommates. None of the victims had any prior criminal records except for a few speeding tickets here and there.

Rossi and Reid recounted their visit to the morgue next and gave their teammates an overview of the state of the remains. JJ and Prentiss paled as they heard just exactly how mutilated the remains of Trey Baxter, Lauren Abbott, Blake Martin, and Jenna Tomson were. Rossi and Reid also brought up the possibility of there being more victims who were killed the same way Hunter Bradley and Elizabeth Jackson were. That information was quickly relayed to their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, along with the request for her to run a nationwide search for possible victims. The two agents who had visited the morgue also told the team about presence of Robert Jackson's skin under his wife's fingernails as the only foreign DNA found on her, and while the idea that he was her attacker was dismissed due to the high likelihood that he too was a victim, the team kept that possibility in the back of their minds just in case.

Morgan and Prentiss were last to share their findings as they reported that the yellow powder found at each of the crime scenes came back as sulfur. The two also offered up their theory that they might be dealing with a team of Unsubs given the Unsub's previous need to subdue multiple victims at the same time. With that being one of their best leads so far aside from the possibility of earlier victims, the team set about continuing to learn more about the victims in Dumfries and to find out if there were any connections between them. They also prepared to interview the families and friends of the victims again later that afternoon.

**xxxxxx**

_**11:30 P.M.** _

The humming of a car engine could be heard as a pair of headlights appeared on the deserted highway. Under the light of the waning gibbous moon, a black Chevy Impala made its way toward Dumfries, Virginia.

"So I've been waiting since Maple Springs. Got something to tell me?" Dean Winchester questioned as he turned to face his brother.

Looking up from the newspaper he was reading, Sam Winchester shifted in the passenger seat. "Umm... It's not your birthday?" he asked, confused.

Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Dean answered with a clip, " No."

"Happy Purim? Dude, I have no idea what you're talking about," Sam feigned as he switched the flashlight he was holding to his right hand.

Dean clenched his teeth. "There's a bullet missing from the Colt," he stated, clearly aggravated. "Wanna tell me how that happened? I know it wasn't me, so unless you were shooting at some incredibly evil cans –"

"Dean," Sam interrupted, not really wanting to have this conversation.

"You went after her, didn't you? The Crossroads Demon, after I told you not to." The needle in the Impala's speedometer edged up just a little bit closer to the 65mph marker, evidence of Dean's rising temper.

"Yeah, well," Sam replied nonchalantly. His tone clearly indicating exactly what he thought of Dean's order on that.

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Dean continued, not happy with his brother's blatant disregard for his say in what was clearly a closed topic.

"I didn't," Sam countered as he turned his attention back to the newspaper in his lap.

Ignoring his brother's short answer, Dean continued, "And you shot her."

"She was a smart ass." He was no way going to apologize for killing the despiteful demon and possibly saving some poor sob from selling his soul.

Giving Sam a glance, Dean continued with a hint of hope in his voice, "So what, does that mean I'm out of my deal?"

"Don't you think I might have mentioned that little fact, Dean?" If killing the Crossroads Demon had resulted in Dean getting out of his deal, Sam would have gladly share the news with his brother even if it meant Dean giving him grief about taking unnecessary risks. "No, Someone else holds the contract."

"Who?" asked Dean as he guided the Impala to continue following VA-234 S.

"She wouldn't say," Sam replied impatiently. He wished Dean would just drop it already.

"Well, we should find out who," Dean pushed. "Of course, our best lead would be the Crossroads Demon. Oh wait a minute," he said; his voice colored with sarcasm.

"It's not funny," gritted Sam. His grip on the flashlight he was using to read the newspaper tightened.

"No, it's not. It was a stupid freakin' risk, and you shouldn't have done it!" He knew yelling at Sam wasn't going to do any good, but damn it! He was going to keep his brother safe!

"I shouldn't have done it?" Sam retorted, pissed that Dean would think that he was just going let his brother die without doing everything he could to stop it. "You're my brother, Dean. No matter what you do, I'm gonna try and save you. And I'm sure as hell not gonna apologize for it!"

Letting his words hang in the air, Sam turned away from his brother and back to the newspaper in front of him.

Deciding that now would be a good time to end this conversation and change the topic, Dean started, "So … tell me about this job?" He felt bad pushing Sam into this conversation and then avoiding it, but no way was he going to have a chick flick moment with his brother.

Sam snorted. It was just like Dean to not be all "touchy-feely" like he would call it. Focusing back on the story he was just reading, Sam began, "Six unexplainable disturbing murders occurred in Dumfries, Virginia in the last nine days, and one victim still missing. Police has no idea how the intruder is able to get into the victims' home undetected. One man is still missing; his wife was killed yesterday when he was taken."

"Now, are you sure that this is our kind of crazy and not the human kind?" Dean asked as he led the Impala to take a left onto Van Buren Road. He could never understand crazy humans. Crazy killer monsters and demons he could deal with fine. He had been dealing with them since Mom was killed. Crazy killer humans like the Benders on the other hand...well, they were just too crazy for him.

"I'm pretty sure it's our kind of crazy, Dean. These people were taken from their homes with no signs of forced entries. It's like they just disappeared, and then their remains showed up three days later in trash bags." Flipping through some of his other notes, Sam continued, "And about a week before the killings, there were all these signs. Odd weather patterns. Local crop failures. Electrical storms."

"All the signs of a demon coming to town. So why weren't we called on this earlier?" God, he hated demons, and he hated being one step behind them even more.

"Well, the disappearances and killings started on the 21st, and we were dealing with Snow White in Maple Springs around that time. Bobby called another hunter who said he was going to take care of it; only he got delayed by a haunting in Maryland." Call him a hypocrite, but Sam hated arrogant hunters who didn't ask for help until it was too late. They were almost as destructive as any of the monsters they took down. He agreed with Dean; they should have been called on this earlier. And even if they were tied up with that fairy tale haunting, Bobby should have taken care of this demon himself instead of trusting some stranger to do it.

"Fine, we can't cry over spilled milk," Dean grunted as he turned right onto Old Stage Road. "We're here now. What else does that paper you've been hugging say?"

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother before answering, "The local police called in the Feds today. Which is bad for us because we're still on the FBI's Most Wanted list. The good news is that the locals won't think of it for a second if two more FBI agents show up asking them questions. We'll blend right in with the crowd." _Maybe having the Feds around wouldn't be so bad after all_ , thought Sam.

"Does it say who the Feds are?" It was best to be prepared and to know who their supposed colleagues might. It wouldn't do at all for them to be waving around FBI badges only to find out at the last second that they would have to be "partners" with _Henriksen_. Yeah, the crazy Special Agent would probably kill the Winchester brothers right there and then.

"Umm...the paper said that the BAU came into town this morning." Sam nearly missed his brother's shocked expression as he continued, "Now, the BAU stands for the Beha-"

"Behavioral Analysis Unit, yeah, I know who they are," Dean interrupted, ignoring the weird look Sam gave him. "We can't go in posing as Feds. The BAU is a close-knit unit of six Special Agents. They all know each other, and they introduce themselves to the locals as a team. They'll be able spot us as fakes a mile away."

"Well, alright then. We can go in as Homeland Security," suggested Sam as the Impala made a left onto the parking lot of Days Inn Dumfries. "And you want to tell me what you know here?"

"No, not Homeland Security. We need to keep a low profile. Reporters, we'll pose as reporters. We're technically not breaking any laws pretending to be reporters." Dean answered as he got out of the Impala. "Let's go check in. We can start snooping around tomorrow before we meet up with Bobby when he gets to town. I'm tired, and that was a long drive. Let's go, Sammy," said Dean as he headed toward the reception area, choosing to ignore Sam's second question.

**xxxxxx**

**AN:**   _ **Minor grammatical revision:** 1/19/17_

 

 


	3. The More The Merrier

_**Now:** _

_**Dumfries, Virginia. October 31, 2007** _

When a blonde woman with funky orange glasses entered the Police Station that morning, the young officer on duty at the reception area couldn't help but did a double take as he saw her. Despite all the craziest that had been going on in Dumfries for the past ten days, the appearance of the woman in front of him still managed to startle him. She wasn't necessarily bad-looking per se; it was really her eccentricity that shocked him. She was wearing a colorful flowery shirt and a bright orange skirt with braid-like patterns at the hems. As if all those colors weren't enough, the woman in front of him also had on a bright red-orange cardinal and a necklace with orange beads the size of gumdrops. Her blonde hair was done up in a ponytail, but that didn't stop her from donning a thick apricot headband with a big amber color marigold on top. In her arms, she held a vibrant Laurex Twinkle Orange laptop sleeve. Looking around the reception area, she finally noticed the young officer in uniform on duty.

"Good morning!" called the mysterious guest with a strained smile as she approached the counter where the officer sat. "Officer Teddy Merritt," she continued as she glanced down at his name tag, "my name is Penelope Garcia. I'm with the FBI. Is Agent Hotchner or Agent Morgan here?"

Snapping out of his observations, Officer Merritt returned this new agent's smile before directing her toward her team. "Um... G-d morning. Agents Hotchner, Morgan, and the rest of your team are already here. Just go down that hallway there." He pointed to the lit hallway to his left as he continued, "And turn right into the second conference room."

Giving Officer Merritt a nod of thanks, Garcia hurried down the hallway to her team. When she arrived at the empty conference room that they had turned into their temporary command center, she was glad to find the entire team all present. What she needed to tell them, she didn't want to tell more than once.

Morgan was the first to notice her presence as he looked up from the file on Robert Jackson he was reading. Surprised, he asked, "Baby Girl, what are you doing here?" His question alerted the rest of the team to the arrival of their technical analyst.

"Garcia?" questioned Hotch as he moved toward her. "Is there something wrong?"

"You're all here; you're all okay," said Garcia, relief colored her voice as a real smile graced her face at last that day, no matter how small of a smile.

"Why wouldn't we be okay? Garcia, are you alright?" asked JJ as she set down the photos she was looking at and approached Garcia. She was completely taken off guard when her friend suddenly pulled her into a firm one-armed hug with Garcia's laptop smushed between them. The action was so unexpected that it sent the rest of the team on to their feet. "Penelope," JJ tried again when Garcia finally pulled away, "what is wrong? Are you alright?"

Garcia moved toward the round table and set down her laptop before turning to face her team. "I'm fine. I thought you guys were the one in trouble."

"Why would we be in trouble?" questioned Reid as he, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi settled back in their seats.

"Well, after you guys called me yesterday afternoon about finding out if there were more victims who had died with their throat slashed, I tried calling you back that evening and this morning, and no one answered," Garcia explained. The calm and relief that she felt earlier once she had seen that the entire team was alright were replaced with frustration and worry again. "I tried calling the station, the inn where you are staying, even the Laundromat across the parking lot. No one picked up. It was like some weird electrical interference or something, and I was freaking out! So I got down here as quickly as I could...and you're all alright! Which I am happy about, but now I feel all silly," she finished, looking embarrassed as she picked her laptop back up and held it as if it were a shield.

"We can check that out later, the electrical interferences," said Rossi. "Now, what do you have for us? Were there previous victims?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes," replied Garcia as she took a seat at the conference table and started up her laptop. She also connected her laptop to the projector in the room so the rest of the team could see the information she found. "So I ran a nationwide search for cases where the victims were killed with their throat slashed after your call." Her hands flew across the keyboard as she called up the information she had found. "Now, imagine my surprise when the first case that was brought to my attention happened in 1972. Eight nuns were killed when their throats were slashed at St. Mary's Convent in Ilchester, Maryland that year."

"1972? That's 32 years ago! That means the Unsub would possibly be around his mid to late 50s by now!" exclaimed Prentiss, shocked that their profile of the Unsub's age could possibly be so off. The team had contended that the Unsub is a white male in his mid to late 20s, around the same age as the victims so far.

"Well, this does add to the theory of a team, possibly a father-son," commented Rossi. "What else did you find, Garcia?"

"Well, after that, nothing until 2006. In January 2006, a driver was found dead on a deserted highway in California with his throat slashed. A John Doe showed up in a Chicago morgue with the same wounds a month later. Eww, now that's just awful." Pictures of the two John Does popped up on the projector screen as the team examined their wounds. Much like Elizabeth Jackson and Hunter Bradley, the EM reports for both men reported a single cut through the throat that severed the carotid arteries and the trachea, leaving both to bleed to death.

"And then nothing again until November," continued Garcia. "In November 2006, a pastor, Jim Murphy, was found with his throat slashed in his church in Blue Earth, Minnesota, severed carotid arteries and trachea, left to bleed to death." A photo of a middle aged man in black priest clothing with his throat slashed as he laid in front of an altar appeared. "That same week, a Caleb Jager turned up dead with the same wounds in Lincoln, Nebraska." A photo of a younger man with a buzz cut appeared. He was tied to a wooden chair, and his lifeless blue eyes stared at the ceiling.

While JJ and Hotch were busy adding all of the new information up on a second whiteboard they had brought into the room, Rossi was jotting down notes in his little black notepad. Garcia paused for a second to drink a sip of water from the plastic cup Morgan handed her before continuing. "A month later in December, a Master Sergeant Mark Hosea was found with his throat slashed in his truck in Rivergrove, Oregon. It was thought that his passenger, Duane Tanner, was his killer, but no one could locate him. That one was strange. Apparently everyone in Rivergrove had disappeared in that same week. The town was practically a ghost town." Photos of Hosea in his truck appeared on the projector screen along with that of Rivergrove, Oregon.

"The last victim I was able to find with the same wounds was Steve Wandell. He was killed in February of this year in Otter Creek, Iowa. Now, all of the murders I just told you are still unsolved," concluded Garcia as she turned away from her laptop, unable to look at the gruesome bloody photos any longer.

"We were right when we said that whoever our Unsub is, he certainly has experience, but I didn't expect him to leave a whole string of bodies behind going back to 1972," commented Reid with a grim face.

"Is possible that our Unsub here could be Duane Tanner, Mark Hosea's suspected killer?" Prentiss threw the question out on the floor, hoping someone might have an answer.

"See, that's the thing sweetie, I can't find Duane Tanner anywhere," answered Garcia. "He and the rest of Rivergrove just disappeared. The only reason Duane Tanner even came up as a suspect for the Hosea's murder was because his prints were all over Mark Hosea's body and truck."

Even with the new information, Morgan couldn't help but think that they still didn't get anywhere on their case. Instead, now they had thirteen more bodies with their unknown perpetrator still at large. _I need some air_ though Morgan as he gave Hotch a nod before heading out the door.

**xxxxxx**

_**At The Same Time With The Winchesters** _

Music blared from the radio as Sam shot up from his bed. "Dean, seriously?" he shouted as he ran a hand through his tousled hair.

Dean Winchester walked out of the bathroom fully dressed with a smirk as he saw his brother's scrunched up face. "And the zombie lives!" Dean joked. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty. We're meeting Bobby at the Montclair Diner across the street. He's waiting for you to get your ass out of bed," said Dean as he threw the towel he was using to dry his hair at Sam.

"Wait, Bobby's here alright?" asked Sam as got up from his bed and headed for the bathroom. "Thought we're supposed to meet up with him later, after we got some personal insight on the case ourselves."

"Yeah, well, he got in earlier, and since you sleep like a coma patient, we're going do some poking around with Bobby later," stated Dean as Sam emerged from the bathroom. "Well, that was quick. Didn't need your bubble bath, Princess?" mocked Dean with a smirk.

"Shut up," grumbled Sam as he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door with Dean right behind him.

With the Impala parked outside, Sam and Dean entered Montclair Diner and looked around for any sign of the man that had long since become their surrogate father. Not finding hide or hair of Bobby Singer, the boys were about to head out again when a figure in the corner booth waved at them. Deciding to see who it was, Sam and Dean headed toward the stranger. As they got closer, suspicion and trepidation were replaced by amusement and shocked. Gone were the ragged oil-stained jeans, the patched up sleeveless vest, and the crummy worn baseball cap that were the customary clothing of Bobby Singer. In their place instead was a well-tailored black suit complete with polished black shoes. His hair was washed, brushed, and gelled back. Even his shaggy beard was trimmed.

Tired of being stared at like a zoo animal, the older man grumbled, "Well, are you idjits gonna sit down or do I have to pull out your chairs for you? Took you long enough to get here."

"Sorry, Bobby," said Dean as the two took their seats. "Princess here overslept," he explained as he jerked his thumb toward his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," continued Bobby. "Now, tell me again why I got dressed up in this monkey suit only for us to _**not**_ go in as FBI?" His face seemed to be in a permanent frown as he loosened his tie yet again.

"Sorry, Bobby," started Sam only to be cut off by the older hunter.

"Will the two of ya quit apologizing and just explain to me the problem?" he snapped impatiently.

"The BAU is in town," said Dean as he looked Bobby in the eyes.

There was a beat of silence before Bobby replied, "Oh." As if the only explanation he needed were those five words.

Sam waited for Bobby to say something else, to ask who the BAU were, to question why they still can't go in as FBI, but he waited in vain. Bobby remained silent, and Sam, unable to stand being kept out of the loop any longer, spoke out at last. "Alright, what's the big secret that I don't know?" Sam demanded. "What's the big deal with the BAU? What do the two of you know that I don't?"

"There's a lot of things you don't know, Sammy," mocked Dean with a smirk as he turned to his brother.

"Dean, seriously. Bobby?" demanded Sam with a frown.

The older hunter looked at both brothers before answering, "Nothing, Sam. Nothing important. Just let it go." And while Sam begrudgingly did as Bobby asked and focused back on the job, he didn't missed the glance Bobby traded with Dean.

"Fine," said Sam. "Whatever. So Bobby, you'll check out the Police Station while Dean and I visit the morgue?" he suggested.

"Uhh...I think I'm gonna check out the station, Sammy. You and Bobby visit the morgue," Dean contradicted as he shared another glance with Bobby.

"What, are you kidding? You want to walk right into a police station full of Feds?" exclaimed Sam, pissed at whatever Bobby and Dean were keeping from him.

Dean gave his brother an eye roll as he got up and scooted out of the booth. "I'll be fine, Sammy. Relax." He gave his brother a smirk before continuing. " I'll see you two later. Remember, I'm James McGovney, and you're Kirk Bonham." He directed the last statement at Sam before heading out the door, completely dismissing Sam's objection at the change of plan.

**xxxxxx**

_**Police Station** _

Morgan had just headed back inside when the doors behind him opened again, letting in the cool October breeze. Turning around, he was hit with a sense of déjà vu as he stared at the man in front of him. Morgan couldn't shake the feeling that somehow he'd met the stranger before.

With short-cropped light brunette hair, hazel eyes, and similar facial features to the recent male victims, he could have been related to them. With a permanent smirk on his face, the stranger approached Morgan. Breaking the silence, he greeted the agent. "Good morning. I'm James McGovney, reporter for my blog. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about the recent string of murders here in Dumfries."

The question snapped Morgan out of his musing, and a small frown appeared on his face. "This is an open investigation. No comment," responded Morgan. He was just about to turn around and head back to his team when the reporter stopped him again.

"I heard that you found something strange at the each of the crime scenes, sulfur. What do you think it means?" questioned McGovney with a hopeful hint in his voice as if he didn't really know that, but was making a lucky guess.

"Like I said before, no comment," reiterated Morgan, yet he knew that McGovney had gotten the answer he was looking for when his permanent smirk got wider, and he backed off.

"Well, thank you for your time, Agent," said McGovney as he turned and headed out of the station.

"Who was that?" asked Reid as he came up from behind Morgan. The older agent had gone out for air a while ago, and when he hadn't come back, Reid had volunteered to look for him. He was surprised to find Morgan talking with a stranger in black leather jacket who looked eerie familiar.

"Just a reporter," said Morgan as he turned to the younger agent behind him. "What's up? Did we get some new info?"

"No," answered Reid, distracted. "Who did you say that was?" Reid asked again as he headed outside, hoping to catch another look at the stranger.

"Reid," called Morgan as he went after him. Stopping next to his teammate outside of the station, Morgan asked, "What's wrong?"

"I'm pretty sure that was Dean Winchester you were talking to," stated Reid as he looked back at Morgan.

"What? The one wanted for the St. Louis murder and the Milwaukee bank robbery? Are you sure?" asked Morgan as he searched the parking lot for the telltale sign of the black Impala the Winchester brothers drove.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," said Reid as he headed back inside and toward the officer sitting in front of the security screen. "Excuse me, can you run the tape from a few minutes ago here in the reception area?" As the images raced across the screen in front of him, Reid's eyes flew from side to side as he searched the faces in front of him for that of Dean Winchester. Spotting his target, Reid turned to the officer next to him, "S-stop right there. No, back a little bit. Yeah, right there."

Beside him, Morgan cursed, "Damn it! That was Winchester! Right in front of me, and I'd let him get away."

Reid wasn't listening though as he hurried back into the conference room where the rest of the team was waiting. "Hey guys, the Winchester brothers are in town," he said. His statement sent the room into a frenzy as Reid wondered if maybe they'd caught a break after all, and these were the Unsubs they were looking for, barred the murders in 1972.

"Are you sure, Reid?" asked Hotch.

"Yeah," Reid replied. "He introduced himself to Morgan as a reporter." Moving to where Garcia was sitting, Reid asked, "Garcia, can you find out where and when...uh." Reid turned to Morgan for help.

"James McGovney," Morgan supplied. "He introduced himself as James McGovney." As Garci entered the information in her laptop, Morgan ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "I can't believe I didn't notice it. McGovney was the original bassist for Metallica. These guys are known for using aliases that include names of famous rock musicians."

"Even the best makes mistakes, Morgan," Prentiss tried to comfort him. "And the Winchesters are good. They've been able to avoid the agent sent after them for nearly a year."

Whatever Morgan was going to say was forgotten when Garcia exclaimed, "Got it! A James McGovney and a Kirk Bonham checked into room 24 at the Days Inn on Old Stage Rd yesterday night."

"Wait," said Rossi. "If they just checked in yesterday, they can't be the Unsubs we're looking for."

"Maybe not," replied Hotch with a frown. "But they are fugitives, and we should find out what they are doing here. We don't want to let them know that we're on to them so let's go over there without sirens and hopefully ambush them." With that, Hotch walked out the doors with Morgan close behind him. Rossi and Reid followed them not far behind. As Prentiss was heading out the door, she ran in JJ who had left the room earlier when Reid went looking for Morgan.

"Hey," said JJ. "Where's everyone going?"

"Uh...We're picking up some suspects from Days Inn. Are you coming?" Prentiss asked.

Seeing Garcia looking uncomfortable in the empty conference room by herself, JJ replied, "Nah, I'm gonna stay with Garcia."

"Alright, see you later then," said Prentiss as she hurried after the others.

**xxxxxx**

_**Days Inn** _

Hotch checked his watch again as he waited in the reception area of Days Inn with Rossi while Morgan, Reid, and Prentiss waited for the Winchester brothers to come back in the two rooms on either side of Room 24. The purr of an engine drew Hotch's attention to the window next to him as a black classic Chevy Impala pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot. Turning to Rossi and bringing his hand mike to his mouth, Hotch said, "Everyone get ready. They're coming up. Wait for them to open their door before making the arrest."

As the Winchester brothers made their way to their room, Hotch caught bits and pieces of their conversation through the others' communication line.

"Well, at least we know for sure...demon...sulfur." Sam Winchester's voice could be heard through the comms.

**xxxxxx**

_**Sam's and Dean's POV** _

"Well, at least we know for sure that a demon is in town with those traces of sulfur we found," said Sam as he made his way to their motel room with Dean behind him.

"Yeah, with those traces of sulfur _ **I**_ found," countered Dean with his signature smirk.

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's immaturity before continuing. "Yes, Dean, that you found. How could I ever doubt you? You did great at the police station. No one is even after us," Sam mocked.

"Don't patronize me," snapped Dean before he stuck his tongue out at his little brother.

"Yeah, Dean. Real mature." said Sam as they passed by room 22. "What's strange though, is how similar the victims look to you and Jo. Whoever this demon is, he obviously has something against you." At his brother's unconcerned look, Sam continued with a frown, "That's not good, Dean. Especially with your deal."

"Dude, who knows how many demons I've pissed off," said Dean as he fiddled with the key into their room. Just as the lock clicked and as he turned the knob, the doors to either side of their room burst open, and shouts filled the air.

"Hands in the air! Hands in the air!" shouted the FBI agents storming out of rooms 22 and 26.

Dean almost hit himself in the head when the agent he had talked to earlier ordered him and Sam to face the wall as his two partners searched them. His mood didn't get any better when Sam grumbled next him, "Yeah, Dean. No one is after us."

**xxxxxx**

_**BAU's POV** _

Prentiss almost laughed out loud when Dean Winchester snapped at his brother as she and Reid confiscated their handguns. The ride back to the station was uneventful as the Winchester brothers were kept separate with Dean in Hotch's and Rossi's van and Sam in hers, Morgan's, and Reid's van. As they led the brothers through the station, Prentiss almost missed JJ's face paled when she caught sight of the Winchesters before she disappeared.

JJ and Garcia had just stepped out of the conference room when Hotch entered the station with Rossi and Morgan behind him, leading Dean Winchester through in chains. At that moment, JJ felt as if a hole had just opened up and swallowed her underground. Everything and everyone else seemed so far away, and all she could hear was a buzzing in her ears. She didn't even hear Garcia when the other woman asked if she was alright before JJ hurried to the restroom. She didn't even wait for the door to close behind her before JJ's phone was out and a number was dialed. The few seconds that it took for her call to be answer seemed like an eternity to JJ. As soon as she heard the "hello" that she was waiting for, JJ didn't any waste time explaining the situation. "Hey, we have a problem. How fast can you get to the Dumfries Police Station?" Her call was done and her phone was stowed away when Prentiss came looking for her.

"Hey," greeted Prentiss. "You alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" answered JJ as headed back outside.

"You were looking pretty pale earlier," Prentiss said as she led the way to the interrogation room. "We got the Winchesters. Hey, has anyone gone in yet?" Prentiss asked Hotch as the two stopped in front of the interrogation room that held Dean Winchester.

"No, not yet. We're letting him sweat for a while," answered Hotch as they continued to watch the older Winchester through the one-way glass.

**xxxxxx**

_**Dean's POV** _

They had put him and Sam into different interrogation rooms a while ago. He knew the FBI agents were watching him through the one-way glass. He wondered if she was on the other side as well and what was she thinking about right now seeing him again. He had got a glimpse of her as they marched him into the station before she disappeared. He had felt a rush of excitement and anticipation when he caught sight of her face earlier. Now, waiting for someone to walk through that door was killing him. Maybe someone had heard his thought because at the moment, the door into the interrogation room opened.

"Well, about time," said Dean, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. As he looked up, Dean was taken off guard by the person who had just walked through the door.

"Hello, Dean," greeted the newcomer. "It's been a while."

**xxxxxxxx**

AN: _ **Minor grammatical revision:** 1/19/17_


	4. Didn't See That Coming

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any aspects of _Criminal Minds_ or _Supernatural_. All copyrights go to their respective companies and entities. All OCs, thoughts, and musings, when not quoted, are mine though. The Revenge Quote at the end is Homer's.

_**Minor grammatical revision:** 1/19/17_

**xxxxxx**

_**Now:** _

_**October 31, 2007** _

Bobby Singer knew his luck was doomed the moment his wife's possession propelled him into the world of supernatural, but he had hoped that since he had survived longer than most hunters, he still had some form of good luck left. Maybe in some twisted sense he did when he received a call from someone he hadn't heard from in a while. "Hello," he answered as he got out of his car.

"Hey Bobby, we have a problem. How fast can you get to the Dumfries Police Station?" asked Jennifer Jareau. She had stayed in contact with Bobby even after her break-up with Dean, and she was glad for that. Without Bobby to turn to, JJ wouldn't know how to handle seeing Dean again after so many years and the possibility of her case being supernatural related.

"I'm across the street -" was all Bobby got out before the call ended. It didn't take long for Bobby to hear JJ calling his name as he turned around.

"Bobby," greeted JJ as she gave him a quick hug. "Dean and Sam were just brought in by my team."

"Damn it! Those idjits!" exclaimed the elder hunter, frustrated.

JJ couldn't fault him for his frustration since she felt the same. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't even know you guys were in town until Dean was brought in earlier."

Bobby loosened the ridiculous tie he was still wearing as he let out a frustrated sigh. "Alright, we have to figure out how to get them out of there before we go after the demon."

"Demon?" asked JJ, shocked before deciding that it wasn't important right now. They had bigger problems to deal with. "But how are we going to get them out?"

Bobby scratched his head as he thought about it. "Is there some way you could have them escape, maybe on their way to the restroom or something? At least one of them?"

"Bobby, it's a police station with some of the best agents in the FBI present," said JJ. "This is not some show where the authorities are incompetent." Her brows furrowed as she stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to say otherwise. When he didn't, JJ glanced back across the street toward the station. "Look, I got to head back. Just keep in touch and I'll call you when I can get them out."

Bobby had to settle for that as he watched JJ headed back to where the boys he had long since considered his sons were kept.

**xxxxxx**

FBI Special Agent Victor Henriksen had dedicated his entire life to his country. For nearly 20 years, he had been a loyal soldier, yet the only thing that he had gotten for all his pain and effort were a string of angry ex-wives and an empty apartment to come home to. When he was handed the Winchesters case, Henriksen knew that it was going to be his career changer. It was going to give him the rewards he deserved: respect, appreciation, and hopefully a better pension. It wasn't that he needed any rewards, having the honor to serve his country was enough. He was satisfied with just that, but it would be nice to have something to look forward to when he retired. Henriksen had thought that the Winchesters case was going to be his just reward. He had no way of knowing that it was going to ruin him, that his career would spiral so completely out of control. He would not go down as the guy who lost two of the most notorious serial killers in history _**twice**_!

The humming vibration from his right brought Henriksen out of his musings as he reached for his cell. "Henriksen," he answered.

"You'll never guess who just got booked in Dumfries, Virginia 20 minutes ago," said his partner Calvin Reidy on the other side of the line.

"Winchesters," stated Henriksen as he shot up on his feet. He was _not_ going to lose them now, not again! "Reidy, meet me down in the parking lot, now!"

"Already there and waiting," came the reply before Henriksen hung up, grabbed his badge and gun, and headed to meet his partner.

A trip from Quantico to Dumfries normally took around thirteen to fifteen minutes; Henriksen and Reidy got there in under 10 minutes. Just before they entered the station, however, Reidy pulled his partner to the side. "I didn't get to tell you earlier," started Reidy, "but another team of FBI is already here. They're the ones who made the collared."

"What does it matter?" said Henriksen as he pulled away. "The Winchesters are mine." He didn't get far before Reidy stopped him again.

"You can't just bully yourself into this one, Henriksen. They're the BAU, and they're here on a case," Reidy warned, used to his partner's grumpy moods and apparent rudeness. But Henriksen barely spared his partner a glance before entering the station and demanding to speak to the officer in charge.

**xxxxxx**

At the sound of the door opening and a pair of footsteps approaching him, Dean tried to appear as nonchalant as possible as he said, "Well, about time." As he looked up, Dean was taken off guard by the person who had just walked through the door. What she said next confused him even more.

"Hello, Dean," greeted the newcomer. "It's been a while."

Dean's brows furrowed as he took in the woman in front of him. She was maybe a few years his senior, not much more. Her navy blue uniform didn't hide her form like he thought it would. Instead, it brought out her curves and hugged her figures quite nicely. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a bun, giving her a professional look that was somewhat marred by her impish smirk as she took in his confused expression. Dean racked his brain, yet he was unable to recall ever meeting this stranger in front of him.

"Oh, come on Dean. Surely you haven't forgotten me have you?" asked the woman as she sashayed toward him. "You did, after all, threw me out of a warehouse nearly two years ago, sent me to Hell, and killed my father."

Dean's face hardened as he growled, "Meg." He struggled against his cuffs, wanting to do _something_ to the demon in front of him, but it was useless.

"Give the man a prize!" mocked Meg as she moved behind Dean, trailing her hands across his shoulders and ignoring him as he tried to move away.

"You're the one killing those people. Why?" asked Dean.

Meg moved to the other side of the table opposite Dean and gave a him a little smirk. "Well, duh, Dean. For revenge and for you of course. All those people died because of you, Dean," she taunted. Seeing Dean's tensed posture only amused her even more as she leaned close to whisper into his ear. "Oh, and Dean, what happened to them is what awaits you in Hell, _every single day for all of eternity_ ," she hissed. She gave a little laugh as Dean's face darkened and his jaw clenched tight. Meg gave his hand one final pat before turning to leave.

Before she could do so however, the interrogation room door opened with Hotch and Henriksen on the other side. "Oh, hello Captain Wards," greeted Hotch as he stepped back for Meg to leave the room before closing the door again. "I didn't know you were in there."

"Oh, I just wanted to know if he was the one killing my people," Meg replied innocently. She quickly turned to Henriksen and changed the subject before Hotch could reply. "Who's this?"

"Captain Wards, this is Agent Victor Henriksen of the FBI. Agent Henriksen, Captain Wards," Hotch introduced. "Agent Henriksen is the one the Bureau sent after Dean Winchester and his brother." he explained.

"Ma'am," greeted Henriksen curtly with a nod, clearly not in the mood for small talks. "If you don't mind, I'd like to talk to Winchester now," he said, moving to enter the room.

"If you will excuse us, Captain Wards," said Hotch as he followed Henriksen into the interrogation room.

Meg gave them both a polite nod before a devious smile appeared on her face as she disappeared from the station.

**xxxxxx**

While everyone's attention was focused on Dean Winchester, Hotch, and Henriksen, JJ made her way to the cell that held Sam Winchester. She hesitated as she thought about what she was about to do. If this didn't work out, it could blow up in her face in the end, but if she didn't do this, then more people could get hurt. Steeling her resolve, JJ entered the unguarded holding area. Once she reached Sam's cell, JJ realized that there was no turning back as she fiddled with key in her hand. Sam must had heard her coming because he was on his feet when she came into view.

"Where is Dean?" was the first thing Sam said when he caught sight of the blonde FBI agent. She didn't say anything as she moved closer to the cell, putting her hands on the bars separating them. A tiny _ding_ could be heard as the agent seemed to place something on the bars.

"Bobby is probably still across the street," JJ began, ignoring Sam's previous question and his confused look. "Wait about 30 seconds after I leave; then take the back door out of here." Sam looked like he was about to interrupt, but JJ kept going. "I'll try to find a way to get Dean out later, but you need to get out of here and get the demon that's causing this mess." As JJ turned to leave, she swore she heard Sam muttered "Christo?" under his breath, trying to figure out if _she_ was the demon. If the situation hadn't been so seriously messed up, she would have laughed.

**xxxxxx**

"Dean Winchester," began Henriksen smugly before he was interrupted by Dean.

"What do you want?" snapped Dean. From across the room, Hotch could feel his anger rolling off him in overpowering waves. He briefly wondered what had gone on between Dean Winchester and Captain Wards. Hotch was brought out of his musings when Henriksen continued.

"To gloat, of course," replied the darker agent as he placed his hands in his pockets. "You're as good as dead, Winchester. I'm going to personally accompany you to the Supermax and make sure you rot in a dark cell for the rest of your life. You're never going to see Sam again."

Dean barely spared Henriksen a glance before turning toward Hotch. "Are you going to play 'good cop'?" His tone still colored with anger and distrust.

"I'm not playing anything," said Hotch as he pulled up a seat across from Dean. "I know you didn't kill anyone here in Dumfries, and I don't think you did any of the serious crimes that you are accused of." Hotch turned a blind eye to Dean's disbelief look and Henriksen's glare as he continued. "I think you and your brother really believe that you are helping people. Help me now to stop this killer, and maybe I can help you."

"How?" asked Dean, appearing for the first time since Hotch entered the room to be willing to cooperate.

"Why should that matter?" interjected Henriksen, annoyed that this agent _Hotchner_ was interfering with _his_ case.

"So innocent people being tortured and killed doesn't matter to you?" asked Dean with a scoff. "Wow, man, that's quite a partner you've picked up," Dean said to Hotch as he looked away from Henriksen.

"He's not my partner," Hotch clarified, somehow secretly glad that he was not connected to Henriksen in anyway except for the Bureau. "My team and I need your help. You and your brother know who is doing this. Help us and I can help you in return."

Hotch reached into his breast pocket and took out his wallet. He quickly removed his business card and replaced his wallet back into his pocket before turning back to Dean, ignoring Henriksen all the while. "Here is my card. I have connection in the Justice Department, and I can probably get most of the charges against you and your brother drop if you willing to help us."

"Why would you need to do that? Why help a murderer?" threw in Henriksen, still irked by Dean's earlier comment and a lack of defense from Hotch.

"Yeah, why?" questioned Dean.

"Because unlike Agent Henriksen, my team and I also take into account what is not obvious when we look at each case. You and Sam have no motives to commit any of the murders you are accused of in St. Louis, Baltimore, and Milwaukee. Not only that, you arrived at each of those cities after the killings have already started. What's more, all of the surviving victims swore up and down that the two of you had saved them. Now, one or two cases of those might be explained by Stockholm syndrome, but it's something else when every single one of your 'victims' claim otherwise," Hotch continued, ignoring Henriksen as the other agent got up to stand by the door with his arms crossed in front of his chest in a defensive position.

"Some would say that you and Sam suffer from antisocial personality disorder. Only the problem to that is you're not characterized by a profound disregard for the rights of others. You respect each other, and you especially, respect your father. Individuals with antisocial personality disorder lack a conscience and show no remorse for the harm they cause, but you and Sam really believe you are helping others. You do have a conscience, and you are capable of remorse, guilt, and shame from what I gathered from those who had crossed paths with the two of you. This means you're not psychopaths even though there are others who might think so because the two of you are very deceptive and tend to lie continuously, and you believe that you are mankind's protectors from the supernatural."

"Protectors, right," Henriksen scoffed, but Hotch barely spared him a glance as he continued.

"You're not sociopaths either. Sociopaths will never take the blame for anything they have done to anyone, no matter if it is family or friend, and they have no room for love in their life. You do, at least from what can be seen through the relationship you and your brother have.

"That being the case, some would make the argument that you and Sam suffer from paranoid schizophrenia with your claims of fighting the supernatural. Some would say that all of that are really just delusions and that they're all in your mind, except the chances of you and your brother having the same delusions are very unlikely. There is also no medical history of schizophrenia occurring in your family until very recently with the claims that your father, your brother, and you are making. Your father's claims and his fight against the supernatural started after your mother's death, when he was 34. Yet, schizophrenia typically begins in late adolescence or early adulthood. The chance of your father actually developing schizophrenia then, while not impossible, is rare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair as he looked up at Hotch in disbelief, not really understanding everything the agent just said, because really, to be honest, the man did just threw out a bunch of psychology terms that were better suited if they were directed at Sam. Although, Dean was not complaining if this guy was really claiming to be on his side. With a chuckle, he asked, "Are you a shrink or a cop?"

With a small smile, Hotch answered, "Well, I'm an FBI profiler, so I guess I'm a little of each."

Before anyone could say anything else however, Prentiss bursted through the door. Her face paled and drawn. "Hotch, JJ's missing...and so is Sam Winchester. You've got to see this...and it's probably a good idea to bring Dean Winchester along."

Hotch barely registered Henriksen's protest as he uncuffed Dean from the table and led him after Prentiss. He was a bit surprised when he met no resistance from the older Winchester brother, but Hotch figured Dean was probably just as worry for his brother as he was for JJ. "What happened?" asked Hotch when he caught up with Prentiss and Garia at the end of the hall.

"I went looking for JJ after the silence in the conference room got to me, but I couldn't find her," started Garcia as she fiddled with her hands.

"JJ disappeared earlier after the Winchester brothers were brought in so when Garcia couldn't find her again, Morgan had Officer Merritt checked the security tapes," continued Prentiss. By then, the group had stopped in front of the security screen where Reid, Morgan, Rossi, Officer Merritt, and Henriksen's partner Agent Reidy were gathered.

When Morgan saw that everyone was present, he turned to Officer Merritt. "Can you play back the clip you just showed us?"

The group watched as JJ entered the station from the back door, taking care to slide what appeared to be a pebble between the doors to keep them open. They watched as she made her way to the holding cell where Sam was kept, unaware of the man following her. Hotch, the only member of the team who hadn't seen the security video yet, furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched JJ's conversation with Sam Winchester before she left him the key to his cell. That confusion quickly turned to anger and apprehension as he watched the figure who had followed JJ earlier confronted her and knocked her out.

Garcia gripped Morgan's arm in fear at what happened next even though she had already seen the tape. The group watched as the image of Sam Winchester entered the screen before the JJ's attacker could escape. Hotch and Henriksen were taken by surprise when before Sam could do anything to help JJ, he was slammed against the wall by an invisible force. The only sign that the attacker had anything to do with it was his outstretched hand directed at Sam.

"Damn it! There are two of them!" exclaimed Dean to the surprise of those present as they watched Sam being slammed into the opposite wall with a flick of a wrist from the attacker.

"What do you mean there are two of them? And how did Chief Forker do that?" interrupted Officer Merritt, unable to keep silent any longer as he watched his superior knocked out Sam Winchester and left a bloody message on the wall before disappearing out the back door with both Sam and JJ on his shoulders.

As everyone turned to look at Dean, he let out an exasperated sigh as he fiddled with his cuffs. "Your Chief Forker is possessed," he stated. "And so is the lady cop."

His statement sparked a frenzy as Merritt asked, "Possessed by what?" the same time Reid protested, "JJ's not possessed!"

"By demons," Dean deadpanned. "And of course JJ's not possessed. I'm talking about that lady cop who was in the interrogation room earlier," Dean clarified, although the look on his face suggested that he thought Reid was an idiot for even thinking that _JJ_ might be possessed.

While a look of embarrassment crossed over Reid's face, Hotch turned to Dean with a look of disbelief. "You're saying that both the Chief _and_ the Captain of the Dumfries Police Department are possessed by demons?"

"There's no such things as demons," added Prentiss; her voice colored with suspicion as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah?" Dean turned toward Prentiss. "Then, how do you explained what just happened?"

"What does it matter?" interrupted Henriksen. "It's probably just some ridiculous ruse you and your brother are pulling to worm your way out of jail. That being said," Henriksen continued, turning to face Hotch. "I'm taking over this investigation. It's obvious that your agent there is involved with the Winchesters somehow. And besides, I have priority on the Winchesters case."

Hotch wasn't a top prosecutor and a Unit Chief for nothing as he stared down Henriksen. "I think not," he countered. "A series of homicides and two serial killers take precedent over any other case you have. And if you want to pull rank on me, might I remind you, Special Agent Henriksen, that as a Senior Supervisory Special Agent and a Unit Chief, I outrank you." His tone was icy enough to freeze even the hottest fires in hell. Rossi stood behind Hotch to show his support for his teammate. His stone cold glare directed toward Henriksen could put even Medusa to shame.

"If you guys are done with your little cockfight," interjected Dean, "could we perhaps go take a look at that bloody message? Although, I gotta say dude, you totally showed him." Dean directed his last comment toward Hotch with a smile, not exactly wanting to offend and to possibly lose the one person who so far seemed to be on his side.

Hotch spared Dean a glance before leading his team, Henriksen, Reidy, and Dean to the hallway in front of the holding cells. As they studied the message in front of them, he couldn't help but wonder who else the Unsubs had killed to leave this bloody message behind since neither JJ nor Sam Winchester seemed to have any bleeding injuries on them earlier.

" _Revenge is sweeter far than flowing honey." Wouldn't you say, Dean? It's time to end what all started years ago._

 


	5. Friends or Foes

_**Previous in** _ **Secrets of the Night** _**:** _

The BAU was called to Dumfries, Virginia following a string of gruesome murders. The Winchester brothers were on the case as well when it appeared that the killers were demons, including one that Sam and Dean knew quite well. Things, however, seemed to take a turn for the worst when the fugitive brothers were arrested and the demons appeared to be using the town police chief and captain as meat suits. One of the BAU had a connection with the Winchester brothers, but before she could do anything to help them, JJ and Sam Winchester were taken by the demons.

**xxxxxx**

_**Now:** _

_**Location Unknown. October 31, 2007** _

There seemed to be a steady pounding of drums that, for the life of her, she just couldn't locate. It was safe to say that JJ woke up with a massive headache, and she swore there was a bump forming on the back of her head. With a groan, she moved to pick herself up from the stone cold concrete floor. Casting a glance around at her surroundings, JJ noticed that she was not alone in the dimly lit room. There was another figure lying not far from where she was sitting. In the dim light, she could only make out strands of the dark brown hair that were not hidden by the shadows.

"Hello?" she called out, unsure if this was a smart move or not. She didn't know if the slumped form was an unfortunate victim like herself, who could either be injured or dead, or if person was really the Unsub in disguise trying to mess with her. However, the FBI agent in her couldn't just turn her back on someone who might need her help. JJ struggled to her feet, her legs wobbling beneath her and her head spinning even faster. At last, to her disappointment, she gave up on trying to stand, but instead sluggishly crawled over to where the slumped body was. As JJ got closer to the figure, she could make out the bruised visage of Sam Winchester.

"Damn it," muttered JJ as she checked for a pulse, breathing a sigh of relief when she found one. "Hey, Sam. Wake up," urged JJ as she tried to shake him awake, hoping to have a conscious Winchester with her when she'd have to deal with the demons who kidnapped them. After what seemed like ages, the younger Winchester let out a groan as he started to stir.

Sam startled awake in the darkness, sensing a presence hovering over him. As his eyes began to focus, he could make out the relieved face of the familiar figure in front of him. "You're the agent from the police station," he groaned as he slowly rose to his feet before offering a hand to the agent still sitting on the dirty floor. "Why were you helping me? Who are you?" Sam asked, looking warily at the potential ally across from him.

"My name is JJ. I'm the Communications Liaison for the BAU," answered the blonde. "...And an old friend of Bobby and Dean." There was a little catch in her voice when she mentioned the elder Winchester brother, causing Sam to give her a questioning glance. Ignoring the look, she also drew Sam's attention to the silver necklace she was wearing. "It's silver-plated iron and a gift from Bobby after the Devil's Gate was opened," she stated.

As he took in the anti-possession pendant, Sam realized JJ had offered him an unspoken reassurance that she really was his ally in this mess they were in. "So you're the reason Dean knows so much about the BAU, huh," Sam stated as he did quick sweep of their dungy prison, missing JJ's look of surprise.

"I supposed so" was all JJ offered. "What happened? How long were we unconscious for, and how did we end up here? Wherever here is," she asked as she waved a hand about their surroundings.

At her questions, Sam gave his watch a quick glance before answering, "We were out for at most twenty minutes so wherever we are, we can't be that far from the station." Running a hand through his hair, he continued with an exhausted sigh. "At least one of the police officers is possessed so we could still be in police station for all we know."

"My team!" JJ exclaimed. Worry and frustration lined her voice. "They don't know about the supernatural!"

"Hey," said Sam. His voice softened as he placed his hands on JJ's shoulders briefly, hoping to reassure her. "Dean is still with them and Bobby is nearby. Besides, with our disappearance, Dean will most likely fill in your team on the supernatural. Or at least the demon part of it. Whether or not they believe him is another question though." Sam's voice turned thoughtful and troubled as he continued. "We can't rule out that they might be possessed either."

Sam's words calmed JJ for the moment so she decided to return the favor. "They're not," she stated. "Possessed," JJ clarified when she saw Sam's raised eyebrows at the statement. "Everyone on my team is wearing the gifts I got them in one form or another, and all of them have the anti-possession charm etched on them."

Letting out a relieved chuckled, Sam commented, "That's really...thoughtful. You're certainly full of surprises."

"That's usually Dean's line," JJ said with a brief smile.

Her casual comment raised questions in Sam's mind not for the first time that day about the relationship between his brother and the F.B.I agent trapped with him. He would have asked her about them if JJ hadn't chosen that moment to brush a strand of stray hair from her face, drawing Sam's attention to it.

"I don't want to worry you," Sam began, "but are you an active hunter or have dealt with demons before?"

JJ furrowed her brows in confusion as she shook her head in denial to his question before Sam saw a look of understanding crossed her face.

"No, but I fit the female victimology," JJ said. The statement echoed ominously across the dark room.

**xxxxxx**

_**Dumfries Police Station. October 31, 2007.** _

"Okay, explain again how you know JJ?" Reid asked for the tenth time.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Dean answered through clenched teeth. "Dude, no matter how many times you ask the question, the answer's still gonna be the same. We dated years ago. Now can we get back to the problem at hand?"

"Yeah, sure. But did she dump your ass before or after she found out you're a psychopathic killer who thinks he's hunting demons and monsters?" Morgan butted in, still miffed that someone he'd trusted and worked with for years could keep something as important as the fact that she knew some of the most wanted FBI fugitives personally a secret.

"Morgan," cautioned Hotch as Dean gave Morgan a stink eye. While Hotchner could understand some of Morgan's anger at JJ and the secrets she had kept, they had more pressing matters to deal with. They had two psychopathic killers on their hands (and no, he wasn't talking about the Winchesters) who appeared to be the town's own Chief of Police and Captain. Oh, and let's not forget that according to Winchester, the officers were not the real killers. It was really the fault of the demons inside of the two that had given them the supernatural powers he'd seen earlier. And most importantly, one of the BAU's own had been taken by these killers who clearly had a grudge against the Winchesters minutes after she had tried to help Sam Winchester escape police custody. Not to mention, JJ physically resembled the other female victims aside from Elizabeth Jackson to the T.

In hope of keeping the peace within the group and learning more about these "demons," Rossi turned toward Winchester. "What can you tell us about these so-called demons? How exactly do you know them because that message that was left behind seems pretty personal to me."

"Sam and I might have ganked the demons she'd called her father and brother," Dean answered with a grimace. "We might have also tried to send her ass back to hell a few times in the past. Although in all fairness, she and her demon pals were also trying to kill us."

"Wait, she?" questioned Prentiss as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I thought the "demon" who took JJ and Sam Winchester was male." While her question held genuine confusion, it was also full of skepticism that those in the room could heard the quotes around the word "demon".

"It's a team, with the demon possessing Captain Wards the leader of the two," Dean answered as professionally as he could. He understood the agents' skepticism but given that one of their own was taken, he'd hoped that they would be a bit more cooperative and not questioned every little thing he told them. "Look, we could sit here, and you could keep asking me the same questions over and over again; or we could get to work looking for my brother and your agent."

"Ok," offered Rossi as he raised his hands in surrender, letting Dean know that he was willing to suspend his disbelief in the supernatural for the moment to work with the hunter. "Tell us how to stop these demons."

"Well, long story short," Dean began, "your guns are useless. I mean, they'll hurt the human bodies but they won't slow down the demons." Noting the troubled glances between the agents, he continued, hoping to lessen their worries. "Holy water, salt, and iron will do that. Rock salt guns will slow demons down and they can't cross salt lines."

Pausing for a moment, Dean grabbed a pen and paper from the table and drew a pentagram containing various symbols. Tapping at the drawing, he told the agents, "This is a Devil's Trap. It does what its name implies. You trick demon inside it and it's stuck, giving you time to exorcise its ass back to hell. Other than that, there are only two ways to kill a demon. One way is with a special demon-killing knife, which unfortunately, we don't have. Then, there's the Colt, which we do have," Dean finished with a predatory smile. "But we need the supplies that you guys took from my room and the Impala, though," he reminded the agents.

"All right," said Hotch as he stood up from the table, "Rossi and Agent Reidy, if you could remain here with Winchester." An unspoken message passed between the two profilers, Hotchner trusting his friend and teammate to keep an eye on both Dean Winchester and the unknown variable of Special Agent Calvin Reidy.

"Garcia," Hotch continued, "look up what you can on Chief Forker and Captain Wards. Any properties or places they could be holding JJ and Sam Winchester in. Look for some place isolated, where they don't have to worry about neighbors disturbing them since that is where the other victims might have been killed."

Garcia gave Hotch a quick nod as her fingers flew across her keyboard, "On it, Sir."

Turning to Morgan and Prentiss, Hotch ordered, "You two go and retrieve the supplies and weapons we picked up with the Winchesters from evidence." Addressing the rest of his team, he added, "Reid and I will give a revised profile to the Dumfries PD. Agent Henriksen, if you could come with us -"

"Actually," interrupted Henriksen, "I'll be staying with Winchester. You might be in charge of this case, but I'm not losing Winchester again. He's not leaving my sight."

After a brief moment of hesitation, Hotchner replied, "Fine." Trading another quick glance with Rossi, he and Reid left to deliver the Unsubs' profiles.

**xxxxxx**

Prentiss could feel the anger, hurt, and disbelief radiating off her partner as they made their way to the Winchesters' Impala. Morgan had gone from vocally expressing his displeasure at the thought of working with Winchester and learning JJ's secret to silently brooding as soon as Hotch asked them to retrieve Winchester's arsenal. While Prentiss understood what Morgan was feeling since the entire team was still reeling from JJ's secret past, she also understood that JJ had a life outside of their team. Like Winchester said, they had a right to their hurt feelings, but at the moment they need to focus on the bigger picture and get their teammate back. Now, Prentiss just had to get Morgan to see that.

"Are you done nursing your hurt feelings or are you going to tell me what's on your mind?" she asked, turning to her partner.

At her bluntness, Morgan turned to Prentiss with a raised eyebrow. "You are telling me that you are okay with what's going on?" he demanded. "That the woman I've trusted, that we've trusted, to have our backs was lying to us the entire time?"

Coming to a stop at the trunk of the black Impala, Prentiss faced her teammate. "I'm far from okay, Morgan." Letting out a humorless chuckle, she continued, "I just learned that the monsters are real, and one of the worst of them took JJ. Yet, we are arguing among ourselves instead of finding a way to get her back."

Morgan looked away guiltily, opening the Impala's trunk to mask his actions.

"Look," Prentiss's tone softened as she placed a hand on Morgan's shoulder. "We all have something from our past that we would rather not talk about, whether it was good or bad." Memories of a year of lies, a golden gimmal ring, and little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes, who she would do anything for, came to her mind before she roughly pushed them aside.

Taking a moment to collect her thoughts as she packed Winchester's weapons into one of the duffle bags left in the trunk, Prentiss let out a tired sigh before continuing, "Besides, you yourself was less than eager to share with the team something from _your_ past that landed you on the suspect list for a serial killer last year."

Morgan's face turned sour at the mention of what had transpired the last time he was in his hometown. Grabbing the duffle bags full of "hunting" gears, he slammed the trunk closed with a hard thud that Prentiss absently thought Winchester wouldn't be too happy with. They stood facing each other for seemed to her like ages. Morgan with his clenched fists and stormy eyes before they finally fluttered closed. He slowly let out a reluctant breath before his dark eyes found hers again. "Okay," Morgan began slowly. "We focus on getting JJ back and taking down these sons of bitches first. And I'll stop baiting Winchester," he added, not too happily.

Satisfied with Morgan's answer for now, Prentiss led as the two started to head back inside the station towards the evidence locker only to see an officer approaching them a short distance away. "I wondered what's wrong," said Prentiss as she gave a quick glance at her watch. "We haven't been gone that long."

Morgan stiffened beside her as he observed the officer. "Something's not right."

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the approaching figure drew his sidearm. Before the man could fire off a shot though, another figure that neither Prentiss nor Morgan had noticed before roughly whacked the man in uniform on the back of his head. However, instead of dropping to the ground from the force of the hit like Prentiss had expected, the man who she recognized as Officer Merritt merely dropped his weapon. His eyes turned solid black as he rounded on his attacker.

Realizing that Officer Merritt was most likely "possessed" by so-called demons like Winchester mentioned earlier, she and Morgan quickly drew their own weapons and rushed forward to aid the mystery man. Unperturbed by the events unfolding before him, the elder man threw what appeared to be water on to the possessed officer. Prentiss couldn't believe her eyes when she saw Officer Merritt's reaction to that. Blistering holes appeared on his clothes as steams came off of him. In response to the attack, Merritt threw back his head with a scream while black smokes shot out of his mouth into the sky before it veered toward the station.

"Son of a bitch," cursed the yet to be identified man as he tracked the progress of the black smoke. Turning to Prentiss and Morgan who stood in shock in front of him, he urged, "Come on we need to get inside and regroup before that thing finds another meat suit to wear."

"Wait! Who are you?" questioned Prentiss as Morgan at last broke out of his stupor to check the fallen officer for a pulse.

"Name's Bobby Singer, a friend of JJ and the Winchesters, and I don't really think we have time for a meet and greet," answered the hunter with a frown, obviously in a hurry to track down the demon who had escaped.

Before Prentiss could answer, Morgan interrupted, "He's gone."

Bending down to double check, Singer grimly remarked, "Balls! Who knows how long your guy here have been dead? That demon could have been riding him for weeks." The old hunter straightened up as he directed Morgan to help him lift up Officer Merritt's body. "Best move his body out of the way, and either cover it with salt or surround it with a salt circle to prevent other demons from using it," he advised.

**xxxxxx**

Looking at the nine members of the Dumfries' Police Department assembled in front of them, Reid was glad for this one time that he and his team were dealing with a small police department. Two officers had already asked about the disappearances of the Chief of Police and Captain. There was an awkward pause when the questions were asked before Hotch had carried on with the profile, hoping to distract the officers.

As Hotch concluded their revised profile, Reid noticed an officer from the back slowly edging forward. Everything in Reid screamed that the man was dangerous. As he continued to follow the officer's movements, Reid noticed officer's eyes flickered solid black. Moving up behind his boss, Reid warned, "Hotch, possible demon." He watched as Hotch's eyes turned to the officer in question.

Before either of them could make a move, the demon must have caught on that they were aware of his presence as a smirk made way across his face and he quickly moved to the front. Reid's instincts told him to be cautious when he noticed that the other officers parted to make way for the demon as if they were in on his plans.

"Well boys, look like the jig is up," drawled the possessed officer. "Winchester has probably filled you in on what we are," he guessed, confirming Reid's and Hotch's suspicions that the rest of the officers probably wasn't in control of their bodies either.

At their silent admission, the demon continued, "Look, we got no beef with you and your team. We just want the Winchester boys. Leave now and don't look back and you can still make it out of this alive."

"Somehow, I doubt that," answered Hotch as he eyed the demon with caution. "We can't exact turn our backs on the fact that you've murdered all those people."

"Sure you can," stated the ringleader with a smirk. "Besides, necessary evil. Had to draw those Winchester boys here somehow." He shrugged nonchalantly, as if taking 7+ lives meant nothing to him. "There's not exactly anything you can do, and you can't fight us," he continued.

 _Bang!_ The sudden sound of gunshot shocked all those in the room as a bullet embedded itself right into the speaking demon's forehead. Red electric-like lights flickered throughout his body and emitted from his eyes and mouth as his body seized about before it dropped with a mundane thud.

"No, but I can, asshole."

 


	6. Possession is the Name of the Game

_**Now:** _

_**Dumfries Police Station. October 31, 2007.** _

With Agents Hotchner and Reid off to stall - oops, _off to give a profile to_ \- the other officers and Agents Morgan and Prentiss to retrieve his weapons, Dean was left with the four remaining agents in the room. He got to admit though that he was feeling some sense of pride that they thought he needed four Federal agents to look after him. Well, three since the technical analyst Garcia had been typing away at her laptop since the others had left. He was not handcuffed though, so that was a plus. They (most likely Hotchner) did somewhat trust him enough.

Dean took a moment to survey the other occupants in the room with him. Henriksen and his partner Reidy were off by the entrance, conversing in low tones before Henriksen started pacing. The older agent, Rossi, was putting up the appearance of reading the notes and files in front of him, but Dean noticed the occasional glances both his way and towards the two agents who were not a part of the BAU. When Dean caught his eyes, Rossi gave up the pretense and turned fully to face him. Rossi's furrowing brows didn't let up once as he contemplatively tapped away at the mustached area below his nose with his index finger. Recognizing the agent's actions as Rossi's tell, Dean let out a sigh and asked the obvious question. "Okay, what's on your mind? You're obviously dying to ask me something."

"The message left behind," Rossi began, " _It's time to end what all started years ago._ Do you know what it was talking about? Are we working on a timetable that we are unaware of?"

There was a pregnant silence as Dean took what the agent said into consideration and racked his brain for what Meg could have meant. The answer hit him like ton of bricks. "November 2nd," he choked out. "The night the Yellow-Eyed Demon killed my mother and started my father on his crusade."

"I'm sorry," Rossi offered at the new information. "So we have until November 2nd then, you think? JJ and your brother will be safe until then?"

Dean ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know. That could just be when she dumps their bodies or some grand finale happens. Our best chance is still to find them as soon as possible." As he let out a sigh, Dean noticed from the corner of his eyes Henriksen drawing his weapon.

On instinct, he dove at the agent, hoping that the sudden impact would cause him to miss whoever he was firing at. Unfortunately, Dean had no such luck as he heard the sound of bullet hitting flesh and a yelp of pain behind him as he wrestled the possessed man to the ground. As Henriksen's eyes turned an obsidian black, Dean bit back a curse, realizing that he had none of his usual weapons to take down the demon. Hoping to buy himself more time to think of _something_ , he continued to tussle with Henriksen. During his struggle, Dean was aware of Rossi rushing to help the injured Reidy and - was that Latin? - reciting in the background.

" _Exorcizamus te, o...omnis immundus spiritus?_ -"

Dean managed to wrangle the gun from Henriksen before it was kicked from his hands.

 _"_ - _Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica ad...adjuramus te. cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_ -"

He suffered an elbow to the stomach, but Dean was finally able to wrap an arm around Henriksen's neck, pulling him into a chokehold. His feet continued to battle with the agent's thrashing lower body.

" - _Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_ -"

Before the chant, which Dean now recognized as the Rituale Romanum, could be completed, Henriksen threw his head back, almost bashing Dean's nose in the process. Black smoke shot out of the agent's mouth, gunning straight for the technical analyst who Dean realized was performing the exorcism. For a split second, he was afraid that the demon would ironically try to use her as his new host before the black smoke veered into the air vent overhead.

The tapping on his forearms drew his attention back to the agent still in his hold. Quickly releasing him, Dean climbed to his feet before holding out a hand to help Henriksen up. Rubbing a hand at his throat, the previous possessed man asked, "What the hell was that?"

"That, my friend, was a demon." The unexpected voice from the entrance had everyone in the room on the defensive before Dean let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the newcomer.

"Bobby," he greeted before getting a nod and grunt in return.

As Agent Prentiss moved to help Rossi with bandaging Reidy, Agent Morgan informed the group, "We were heading back when we heard the gunshot and commotions from down the hall."

Dean ruffled through the supplies the three had just brought in, tossing anti-possession charms at Henriksen and Reidy. "How did you know to recite the exorcism?" He directed his question at Garcia who was still frozen in shock.

Coming out of her daze with a shiver, Garcia pointed at her laptop and added, "I was multitasking...and I took like one Latin course in college to fulfill a foreign language requirement."

Before anything else could be said, Morgan reminded the group of Hotch and Reid. "They could be in trouble." Giving Rossi a nod, he continued, "I don't think we are dealing with a team of two anymore. You guys weren't the only ones who had a run-in with a demon."

Dean traded looks with Bobby, prompting the older man to toss him the Colt he had retrieved earlier before Dean took off for the squad room with Morgan and Rossi close behind him. As he approached, Dean could hear the offers and taunts from the demon inside. Taking advantage of the element of surprise, he fired a shot from the Colt straight into the demon's head. "No, but I can, asshole." He couldn't help but answer the demon's last taunt.

**xxxxxx**

_**Days Inn.** _

After Winchester had shot the demon, they had used the momentary shock and inaction from the remainder of those present to flee the station before reconvening at Winchester's motel room. Taking the newcomer Singer's appearance in stride, Hotch calmly surveyed the room. The rest of his team seemed frazzled, but they were handling the situation well enough. Surprisingly, Morgan and Prentiss who had been so skeptical before had become very accepting of the whole ordeal. Their ease around Singer led Hotch to believe the older hunter had something to do with that. Henriksen and Reidy, on the other hand, were working out their own problem. The previously rowdy agent had been much more humbled and subdued when he had greeted Hotch, so whatever had happened while he and Reid were absent had been bad. Rossi confirmed Hotch's guess when he filled him in on the way, that Henriksen had shot his partner while he was possessed. Luckily, it had been a through-and-through and the bullet managed to not hit any vital organs. Winchester was quick to reassure the group that the anti-possession charms he had handed Henriksen and Reidy would prevent any other demon from possessing them. Singer shared that the rest of the BAU were already protected because of JJ's gifts. That elicited surprised looks from around the room.

Before anything else could be said, Hotch drew their attention back to their mission. "Garcia, were you able to find a possible location earlier? Did Chief Forker or Captain Wards have any properties where they could be holding Sam Winchester and JJ?"

"Hm? Oh yes, sir. Captain Wards has a place on Candice Drive near Quantico Creek about 8 minutes southeast from the station. It appeared isolated enough from the houses near it. The address has been sent to your phones."

"Thank you, Garcia." Hotch figured their best plan of attack would be to split up into two teams, one to check out the house and the other to keep an eye on the police station, the demons' base of operation. "Dave, you, Prentiss, Garcia, and Agent Reidy should stay behind and keep surveillance on the station. Let us know if anything else suspicious happens or if Wards or Forker shows up," he said, addressing Rossi and receiving a nod of confirmation in return. "The rest of us," Hotch continued, "will check out the house. Misters Winchester and Singer -"

"Our first names are fine, G-Man," Winchester - _Dean_ \- interrupted.

"- Dean and Bobby," Hotch carried on seamlessly. The name switch and a slight tilt of his head were his only acknowledgements of the short interlude. "If you don't mind, perhaps it would be best if you two lead the search on the house. There is a greater chance of us encountering a demon there, and I rather have someone who know what exactly we are dealing with leading the charge."

"Sure thing, G-Man," replied Dean. Taking a moment to ruffle through his duffel bag, he pulled out a weathered leather journal that he hanged off to Garcia. "Maybe you'd want to go through this while you lot keep a lookout on the station. There are infos in there that are useful, especially for you rookies." Dean and Bobby then gave the group a quick tutorial on what to do should any of them encounter a demon before the agents traded in their guns for holy water and shotguns loaded with rock salts. With one last nod to his teammates staying behind, Hotch followed Dean and Bobby.

**xxxxxx**

_**Location Unknown.** _

Sam gave up on picking the locks of their dingy prison twenty minutes ago. Normally, getting through a lock door with only some hairpins and a paper clip for support wasn't an impossible task for him. Sure, it might take some time, but it wasn't terribly difficult. This door, on the other hand, had thrown him for a loop. These demons that they were dealing with had added in a lock that was only accessible from the other side of the door, so while Sam could pick the lock that was visible to him (which he did), there was still a safeguard lock that he was unable to reach. Letting out a huff of frustration, Sam focused on the door in front of him. After he had abandoned the lock, Sam had shifted his attention to the hinges of the door. They looked worn enough that he thought that maybe he could get the door open that way. So far, he was having no such luck.

Sam could hear JJ moving around the room behind him. While he had been fixated on the locked door, JJ had been searching the room for a possible weapon. She had been fiddling with a metal pipe in the back of the room that she said could be of use to them if she could get it loose. The two of them had worked quietly, not making much conversations. The prolonged silence was starting to get to Sam though. It gave him way too much time to think about their situation, and what he had come up with unsettled him. The demon, or demons, that they were hunting had no qualm murdering and torturing all those innocent people, yet they had only taken Sam and JJ prisoners with barely a scratch on either of them. It also had been hours since they were taken, yet their jailers have not made an appearance, either to gloat or to do harm. Sam concluded that this could only mean whatever they were planning was big and not good news for him and JJ.

A loud clang and an audible "oof" from behind him jolted Sam out of his thoughts. Turning to the source, he asked, "You all right, JJ?" before walking to her.

"Yeah," JJ answered as she dusted herself off from her fall. "We now have a usable weapon," she added, holding up the metal pipe that she had worked free. JJ let out an exhausted sigh as she handed Sam the pipe. "This is useless. It's not going to do anything against a demon."

"Hey." Sam gave JJ's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Before we had nothing, now at least we have something to defend ourselves." He gave the rusted pole a measured look. The jagged edge at the end caught his attention. With a calculated look, Sam used that end of the pipe to first scratch it against the ceiling of their prison and then against the floor, testing to see if a mark was left behind. The end of his lips lift slightly upward at the success of his test.

"You know, we are not completely defenseless after all." Gesturing towards the door, Sam shared his plan with JJ. "Help me carve a Devil's Trap on the ceiling there by the door. It should trap any demons coming through it and give us time to escape."

The pair set about scratching the design on the ceiling a little way from the door. The muscles in Sam's shoulders burned from keeping his arms stretched above his head for so long. He only hoped he had gotten all the symbols and designs correct with the dismal lighting the lone hanging light bulb offered.

He barely finished the carving when the overhead light flickered and hummed in distress. Padded sounds of what may be footsteps rang from above before the doorknob in front of him was tested with a rattle. With the metal pipe held in front of him like a weapon, he and JJ quietly and quickly moved away from the entrance and into the shadowed corner, their bodies taut and tense as they waited for the door to open.

_Click._

**xxxxxx**

_**Wards' Place on Candice Drive.** _

Henriksen's hands still hadn't quite stopped trembling some hours later after his possession. His mind had been blown and his world had been turned upside down more than once that day. He almost regretted not volunteering to stay behind with the others, but Henriksen wasn't sure he wanted to face his partner again just yet. Things between them had been painstakingly awkward and tense after he had shot Reidy earlier. What happened at the station scared him shitless.

Henriksen could see and feel everything that happened while that thing was in him. He remembered being stuck in his own mind, feeling helpless and trapped while the monster controlled his body and shot his own partner. Wistfully, Henriksen prayed he and Reidy would be able to work through this. That man who was also the best man at his last failed marriage was all Henriksen had left. His career was in the toilet, and after what he had learned here in Dumfries about the Winchesters and monsters and demons, it looked like it was stuck in the sewer. Henriksen really didn't want to lose one of his only friends left when - or if - he made out of this alive.

The sun had long since set on what was an incredibly bizarre day when they arrived at 30507 Candice Drive. As he got out of the SUV, Henriksen made sure the anti-possession charm Winchester had tossed him earlier was securely tucked around his neck. As they reconvened near the driveway a little distance away from the house in question, Winc - Dean addressed the group in a low voice. "Bobby, Morgan, and Reid, you three cover the back. Hotch and Henriksen, we'll take the front door. Stay sharp." With the last word of caution, the three of them split off towards the front.

Henriksen quietly drew his gun out of his holster as they stopped in front of the wooden door. He took cover slightly left of the threshold while Hotch and Dean peeled off on the right. Dean quickly tested the knob, only to find it locked as expected. With a nod from Hotch and himself, Dean straightened up and delivered a hard kick close to the locks, throwing the door open.

Upon entering the silent house, Henriksen took the lead for a brief moment while Hotch and Dean covered him. As they crept through the living room, eyes swiftly adjusting to the darkness surrounding them, he found himself mentally shaking his head in disbelief that he was willing to trust the elder Winchester brother to watch his back when only that morning Henriksen was on his way to arrest the man. Brushing away the tangent thought, Henriksen focused back on his surroundings and the two men by his side. The three of them moved in tandem, clearing each room in the front of the house systematically.

They met up with the rest of the team in the dining room. Judging from their expressions, Henriksen could guess that they were just as successful in finding any clues of Sam Winchester or JJ as he was.

"The rest of the house is clear," stated Morgan, confirming his suspicion.

"Garcia said the house has a basement," recalled Hotch as the team stealthily surrounded the old door leading downstairs.

The doorknob gave a little squeak as Henriksen slowly turned it. He stepped to the side as Dean took point down the creepy wooden stairs, worn from age and lack of maintenance. Bobby and Reid stayed up in the hallway to keep a lookout while the rest of them descended the stairs after Dean one by one, sweeping their guns and flashlights side to side on the way. The group encountered another door at the bottom. This one was metal and locked. Giving the men behind him a look, Dean knelt in front of the lock and made quick work with it. Holding his breath, Dean turned the knob with a _click_.


	7. Who Needs a White Knight

_**Now:** _

_**Wards' Place on Candice Drive. October 31, 2007.** _

The squeak from the door hinges seemed to amplify in the dark space. His own hammering heartbeat thundered loudly in his ears. Bracing himself, Dean opened the basement door fully and shined his flashlight into the room. The iron smell of blood clogged his nose, even before he entered the room.

It was with a mixture of relief and disappointment that he took in the bloody scene before him. A single old light bulb dangled down from the ceiling, shining a spotlight on the mangled body strapped to a rusty metal chair at the center. The short-cropped light brunette hair highlighted was thankful not Sammy's dark unmanageable mane. Dean rested his fingers on Robert Jackson's neck, checking for a pulse. "He's gone," he called out to the agents around him. "Poor bastard."

Morgan let out a frustrated sigh at the literal dead-end they'd encountered. "What should we do with the body? I know you said that they had no control over their actions, but who is going to believe that they are innocent, or at least Captain Wards is, when a dead body is found in her bloody basement?"

Dean briefly considered Morgan's point. "Maybe you all should leave and let Bobby and I take care of the body. You know, for plausible deniability purposes." The silent gasps and shocked looks from the others didn't exactly come as a surprise to him, but Dean plowed on. "Besides, it's best if Bobby and I dispose of the body properly just in case Mr. Jackson here decides to come back as a vengeful ghost given the way he was violently murdered."

Morgan looked to Hotch for his decision, and Dean was a tad surprised to see Henriksen do the same. He guessed the agent's encountered with the demon was a humbling experience for him.

Hotch's eyes flickered close for a moment as he exhaled sharply. His hand tightened around the flashlight he was holding. It went against everything in his nature to agree to Dean's plan, to turn a blind eye to the situation and possibly never give Robert Jackson's family the closure they looked for, but the rules had changed. The person...thing that had committed the crime was not of this world nor governed by their laws. Hotch had to make the decision that was best for his team, and they can't deal with a department full of demons as well as vengeful ghosts if Dean's fear came to fruition. "We'll see you two back at the motel then."

Dean noticed Morgan's eyes widened slightly at Hotch's decision before he and Henriksen followed the man out of the basement and up the stairs. A moment later, Bobby joined Dean, taking in the mess in front of them. "Damn," whispered the older hunter.

"Yeah," agreed Dean. "We need to properly get rid of the body, salt and burn it just in case. Then, scrub this entire basement somehow."

"Too bad it'd be too suspicious to torch the whole house," Bobby lamented. As he helped Dean lifted the body up the stairs, he continued, "And what if the demon comes back for round two while we're still here, huh?"

Pausing a moment to adjust the weight he was carrying, Dean fired back. "Well, let's hurry then and quit yapping."

"Idjit," was the only response he got as he and Bobby quickly went about their clean-up.

**xxxxxx**

_**Location Unknown.** _

JJ waited with bated breath as the door in front of her swung open. Though she was expecting it, she still had to hold back a surprise gasp at the sight of Captain Wards. She could see Sam's jaw tightened at their captor's smug look.

"Hello Sammy," greeted Wards cheerfully. At Sam's silence, she continued. "Don't say you forgot about me already? Now, your brother, I could forgive, but you? I'm hurt, Sammy." Her hands went to her chest mockingly. "We were so close, so intimate," she drew out.

"Meg," Sam growled. "What do you want?" He shifted slightly, trying to keep from drawing attention to the fact that he was now blocking JJ completely from the demon's view. His body was wound up even tighter than before, ready to attack at the slightest movement. JJ was glad for the barrier that Sam provided against Wards.

Wards - _Meg_ \- was still as calm and cheerful as ever, unaffected, or rather, uncaring of the stifling animosity in the room. "You, Sammy," she started, "I don't want anything from you. I'm more interested in your brother, but I'm holding on to you for a friend, well more of a colleague really. And the FBI agent," Meg nodded in JJ's direction. "Well, she's just collateral damage," she ended with a shrug.

JJ wanted to express her indignation at being consider "just collateral damage," but she bit her tongue to keep from drawing more attention to herself. She could sit on her pride for the moment; better her pride that was wounded than her life forfeited. She also had to keep herself from glancing at the Devil's Trap crudely carved on the ceiling, daring the demon to step one foot into the basement.

Sam had taken offense to Meg's words as well, though for a different reason, as he demanded, "What do you want with Dean, and who's your colleague?"

"I just want to give Deano a sneak peek of what he will be facing for all eternity and help him get downstairs ahead of schedule. That's all," Meg said with a wink. "Lilith though, she heard you were looking for her and well, she thought she'd save you the trouble. She should arrive in about two days or so. I'll just keep you for her until then. Don't worry. I won't do anything to you and your friend though, because as much as I love physical torture, I quite enjoy the mental kind as well."

JJ could hardly wrap her head around everything that Meg had dumped on them before the demon slammed the metal door shut, locking them in again. Turning to Sam, she declared, "We need to hurry up and get the hell out of here."

"I couldn't agree more," he replied.

**xxxxxx**

_**Days Inn. November 1, 2007.** _

Waking up was a nightmare. His sore and worn body ached with each movement, yet it was better than the actual night terror that he had been caught in moments before. Rousing the others was simply enough. Everyone was too worried and tensed to sleep for long; Hotch and Rossi, despite turning in the night before as late as he had, were already up when Dean knocked on their door.

No one was in any mood for small talk so it was just a quick good morning all around before they got down to business. According to Garcia's surveillance, all officers had remained overnight at the station, no one entering or leaving, though no actual sighting of either Wards or Forker still. The technical analyst also discovered that there was a structure beneath the police station in one of the older building plans. While they didn't have any other evidence to back it up, they banked on Sam and JJ being held there.

Dean wanted to storm the place and search the basement - "If there even is one!" interjected Bobby, the voice of reason. "We could be walking into an ambush!"

"We don't have a lot of options here," countered Morgan. He looked unhappy to be agreeing with Dean. Probably still not over the fact that the hunter had pulled a quick one over him before. "We don't have any other clues, and we're running out of time, if you're right about the message on the wall."

"We could be walking into an ambush or a successful rescue mission - "

" - What about the possessed officers then?" added Reid. "You can't put a bullet into all of them, and even if they are all already dead, it's not a risk we can take."

"I have to agree with the kid." Reid's face scrunched up with indignation at being called a kid, but he didn't say anything - Dean wondered if his missing brother, whom the FBI agent seemed to share a number of characteristics with, would have stayed quiet at the slight - Henriksen though didn't even pause. "I'm glad that you didn't just shoot me. What about that chant thing that you used for me? Can't you use that?"

"Yeah, we could perform an exorcism, but it's a tricky business, if you remembered. The demons aren't going to stand by quietly and not put up a fight while we're smoking them out. We can't hold down everyone at once, especially if they're spread throughout the station," said Dean.

"What if we shut them in and broadcast the exorcism through the PA system?" suggested Garcia. "The system is accessible from both the front desk by the entrance and the chief's office."

Gazing over the building plans, Dean said, "If we're doing that, the easiest one to get to is the front desk, but that means we literally have to storm through the front door."

"Not necessarily," Prentiss pointed out. "The window for the chief's office is accessible from the street. One group could sneak in that way while another storms the entrance. That way, we keep both our options in play and have a distraction for the office group. The question, though, is how to keep the demons in the station."

"That is an easy problem to solve, agent," replied Dean with a smirk. His voice had lost the hesitation and worried from earlier at the new plan. "We line all the doors and windows of the station with salt and none of the demons will be able to leave."

"That easy?" asked Morgan with some reservations.

"Yeah," answered Bobby for Dean. "Although," he added, "it wouldn't hurt to draw some Devil's Traps around the station, just in case."

**xxxxxx**

_**Dumfries Police Station.** _

With a plan laid out, the team set off to work. By some miracle, none of the demons inside caught them as the hunters and agents laid their traps around the Dumfries Police Station. Bobby, Prentiss, and Reid crept quietly up to one of the windows on the far side of the building.

"This is it," whispered Prentiss, "the chief's office."

Bobby nodded in response as he tested the window, only to find it locked. The old hunter gave the ground a quick scan and picked up small rock before he discarded it. Instead, he pulled his gun from the waist of his pants, weighed it in his hands for a moment, and double checked that the safety was still on before he flipped it around to hold it by the barrel. "Ok. Ready."

Reid quickly relayed the message through his comms. Once he got a confirmation from the others, the kid held up three fingers in countdown for Bobby to see. When the last finger was lowered, Bobby smashed the butt of his gun as hard as possible against the window, shattering the glass. At the same time, a loud shotgun blast could heard from the other side of the building at the entrance followed by shouting.

Focusing on the task at hand, Bobby knocked down the remaining glasses around the edge, reached in to unlock the window, and lifted up the frame. Tossing his jacket in first to cover the broken glasses on the floor, he climbed through the window, careful to land on the cushioned area. He turned to take the duffle bag of weapons and supplies from Prentiss before helping her and Reid through the window. Bobby pointed Reid towards the PA system and handed him a copy of the _Rituale Romanum_ Exorcism.

"Here. Read this and don't stop no matter what."

"Got it. _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus …"_

Bobby passed Prentiss one of the rock-salted shotguns from the duffle bag before he took out a can of red spray paint. "Can you watch the door while I get this set up, just in case?" he asked.

"Got your back," Prentiss replied with a nod. Her eyes focused on the wooden door that separated the three from the rest of the action-packed station as Bobby began to paint a Devil's Trap in front of it.

" _...omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…"_

Reid was three-fourth of the way through the exorcism by the time Bobby finished with the trap. "That should keep any of 'em from interrupting you two."

"Be careful," called Prentiss as Bobby left the warded office, rock-salted shotgun in hand.

He made a left down the hallway, clearing each room as he passed them before Bobby spotted a slumped body at the end of the hall. Moving towards it, he kept a wary eye on the deserted hallway. As he bent down to check it, he could make out the faint _thump-thump_ of the formerly possessed officer's pulse against his fingers. "Well," Bobby murmured, "at least not everyone is lost."

Just then, Dean and Hotchner came into view from the squad room, guns raised. "Is he still alive?" asked the latter as both lowered their weapons at the sight of Bobby.

"Faint pulse, but he's still alive. The rest?"

"Three didn't survive the exorcism, but the remaining five are demon-free and waiting in the squad room. Including him," Dean gestured at the unconscious body in front of them, "that's nine total. Meg's still at large."

"Dumfries Police Department was made up of twelve officers," supplied Hotchner. "Counting the two who died yesterday, Captain Wards is the only left."

"She must have gone to the basement, where she might be holding Sam and JJ, when we started storming this place," said Dean.

Bobby felt the weight of the look Agent Hotchner gave him and Dean before the man seemed to reach a decision. "You two go on and check the basement then. I'll take Sergeant McLean back to the squad room."

He understood the trust that Hotchner was giving them. Trading a glance with Dean, the two gave Hotchner an understanding nod as they parted way. Before they were completely out of earshot, Bobby could hear the man telling Reid and Prentiss through their comms to regroup in the squad room.

**xxxxxx**

They had just finished drawing the Devil's Trap in front of the entrance when Hotch's attention was caught by Reid's voice over his comms. _"We're in position and ready."_

Looking to Dean for a signal and seeing a thumb's up from him, Hotch replied, "On three. _One…_ " He and Dean took the point position with Morgan and Henriksen close behind. " _Two…_ " In his peripheral vision, he could see Henriksen getting ready, shotgun in one hand and a canister of salt in the other. Dean beside him also had one hand on the entrance door, ready to slam it open. " _Three!_ "

 _CRASH!_ They stormed through the entrance; the shotgun blast Dean fired tore through the ceiling of the station, raining debris down in front of them. An officer came into view, likely to investigate the commotion, and her eyes flickered solid black at the sight they must have made. Behind him and Dean, Henriksen and Morgan quickly threw down a line of salt in front of the doors the four had just come through.

Letting out a growled, the demon flicked her hand to the side just as Hotch fired at her. She flew backwards, slamming into an approaching demon as Dean flew to the right, where her hand had indicated, his shotgun clattering to the floor. With the salt line in place, Henriksen ran to check on Dean while Morgan and Hotch continued to fire at the demons, now five in total, pressing the demons back towards the squad room, where the rest of those possessed were probably lying in wait.

 _Bang! Bang! Bang!_ "Come on, Reid, hurry," Hotch murmured under his breath as he dove for cover behind an officer's desk at the edge of the squad room, Morgan right behind him while Dean and Henriksen ducked behind an adjacent desk. The demons finally decided to make good use of the guns the bodies they were borrowing had.

As if Reid had heard his plea, the overhead PA system crackled to life.

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolic…"_

Loud roars filled the room as the angry storm of bullets stopped coming at them. Guns clattered onto the marble-colored, epoxy coated floor. Bracing himself, Hotch raised his head up from behind the desk he was using as a shield to the sights of flailing demons. As Reid's voice continued broadcasting throughout the station, the demons in front of Hotch continued to twist and turn about, trying to block out the exorcism to no avail. One ran for the hallway leading to the other offices and conference rooms while another banged on a nearby window, trying to escape. Standing up in amazement, Hotch caught the attention of the female demon they had first encountered. Using the last bit of her energy, she let out a growl and made a pushing motion with her hand at him. Though he had seen it happened to Dean earlier, it still caught Hotch by surprise as he slammed backward into Morgan who had stood up behind him.

An oppressive black cloud condensed under the squad room ceiling as one by one, black smokes were forced from the screaming mouths of the possessed officers. Righting himself, Hotch caught sight of Chief Forker, still possessed, standing defiantly in the middle of the room. As if sensing his gaze, the blackened, soulless eyes stared back at Hotch before Chief Forker's neck was forcibly snapped to side as black smokes poured from his mouth. His body and those of the other officers slumped to the floor as a purplish light flickered throughout the swirling black cloud before it all erupted into a big orange fire, so bright that Hotch had to shield his eyes from the sight. Then, it was all over.

Aside from the sound of Reid's voice thundering throughout the station and their labored breathing, there was not another sound to be heard. The pungent odor of sweat and the metallic tang of blood assaulted Hotch's senses, and he had to steady himself on the desk in front of him for a moment, letting out a sharp exhale. Looking up at Morgan, Dean, and Henriksen, Hotch took in their tired and weary faces.

"It's over," said Morgan, voicing what they were all thinking. The statement seemed to break them out of the spell they were in, spurring the group to action once again. The four spread out across the room, each going to check on a fallen officer.

Hotch checked on Chief Forker, but there was never any hope that the man was still alive. The chief had died of a broken neck. The demon who had possessed him had taken one last life out of spite. Shaking his head despondently, Hotch moved on to the next officer, hoping for some good news. It took them all a few minutes to check on everyone the room. Aside from Chief Forker, there were only two other casualties, Detective Malone and Officer Jones. The other five officers in the room had thankfully survived the whole ordeal, though not necessarily unscathed.

As the surviving officers began to stir, Hotch gave the group another look. "There are only eight officers here. We're missing two."

"Meg's not here," added Dean.

"Morgan, Henriksen, you two stay here with the officers. Dean and I will check the hallway and basement." With affirming nods from the others, Hotch and Dean headed for the hallway leading to the other offices and conference rooms, leaving Morgan and Henriksen to tend to the officers who were slowly regaining conscious.

They were rounding the corner of the hallway when they noticed the movements ahead. Slowing down Hotch drew his gun with Dean following suit as they crept up on the figures. At the sight of Bobby bending over the slumped body of Sergeant McLean, Hotch and Dean both lowered their guns.

"Is he still alive?" asked Hotch.

"Faint pulse, but he's still alive. The rest?" asked Bobby

"Three didn't survive the exorcism, but the remaining five are demon-free and waiting in the squad room. Including him," Dean gestured at the unconscious body in front of them, "that's nine total. Meg's still at large."

"Dumfries Police Department was made up of twelve officers," supplied Hotch. "Counting the two who died yesterday, Captain Wards is the only left."

"She must have gone to the basement, where she might be holding Sam and JJ, when we started storming this place," said Dean.

Hotch gave Bobby and Dean a weighted look. It would be the best course of action for the two hunters to continue on to the basement while he took Sergeant McLean back to the others. That way, the two could watch each other's back and the experienced hunters would be the ones dealing with the ringleader demon if she had managed to escape their earlier mass exorcism. Yet, that decision would also mean he was leaving a member of his team, JJ, unaccounted for still.

As much as he hated to admit it, Hotch was not the best choice to check the basement when he had two people who knew what they were doing standing in front of him, especially if him going in half-cocked might end up putting someone in harm's way. Fixing both hunters with a weighted stare, Hotch said, "You two go on and check the basement then. I'll take Sergeant McLean back to the squad room."

Bobby and Dean gave Hotch an understanding nod as they parted way. Turning to the unconscious body in front of him, Hotch let out an exhaled sigh as he holstered his gun before bending down to hoist McLean up. Once he had the sergeant over his shoulders in a fireman's hold, Hotch quickly tapped on his comms. "Reid, Prentiss, it's over. Regroup in the squad room."

Reid's voice had stopped broadcasting throughout the station and Morgan paused from speaking with a dazed Officer Jensen to give him a questioning look when Hotch entered the squad room with Sergeant McLean in tow. Hotch placed the sergeant, who was slowly coming to, on a nearby chair, his back cracking slightly from the previous strain as Hotch straightened up.

"Bobby and Dean are continuing to the basement. Reid and Prentiss should be joining us any minute," Hotch said, answering Morgan and Henriksen's silent questions.

Just as Reid and Prentiss were entering the squad room, Hotch's comms crackled to life again. "Sir, you and the others should head back to Laundromat HQ. There's something here you all need to see." Clear relief colored Garcia's voice.

**xxxxxx**

Trapped. Grace had been trapped inside her own body for nearly two weeks while that _thing_ had taken over. She had taken an oath to protect and serve. Yet, ever since that _thing_ had been inside of her, her body was forced to break her most furiously protected oath a hundred times over. Grace was reduced to a voiceless, powerless conscience floating in and out of conscious.

" _Oh, do shut up before I get rid of you completely,"_ said the demon in her body.

Before she could think of anything else, Grace was interrupted by a loud crash and bang from the entrance.

" _Damn Winchesters!"_ growled the demon as Grace's body made its way to where the demented devil had detained her prisoners. Foregoing the use of keys altogether, the hellish being tore the decrepit metal door that was keeping her prisoners hostage aside like it was made of paper.

The moment Grace's body stepped into the dimly lit room, Grace felt the demon's anger and fury washed over her. Her supernaturally enhanced vision, courtesy of the possessing demon, focused on the haphazardly made hole in the wall across the room. " _Damn Winchesters!"_ growled the demon again.

When the demon tried to go after her preys, Grace found her body trapped behind an invisible barrier. Knowing that there was nothing on the floor, the demon lifted Grace's head up to the ceiling, spying a crudely carved pentagram. _"Clever Sammy."_

Despite knowing that the demon had access to all her thoughts, feelings, and memories, Grace couldn't help but feel a little smug at their current mutual predicament. Now, aggravating demon would feel what Grace had to deal with for the past two weeks.

" _You know, I don't need you alive to keep using your body,"_ growled the demon. _"If you don't keep quiet, I will snuff out your little life just for fun."_

Grace's conscience faded away at the threat. It was just darkness and silence for a while until she was looking through her eyes again to the sight of two weary and wary men. (How she found the strength to be funny, she didn't know.)

" _Dean,"_ the demon purred at the younger man. _"And the old man, you helped the Winchesters exorcised me last time."_

"Well, I'm not exact flattered you remember me," replied the older man. "Excuse me if I don't introduce myself. Don't exactly need your kind knowing my name."

" _Oh, but Bobby, Sammy already told me all about you the last time I was in his pretty little head,"_ replied the demon innocently.

"Speaking of Sam, where's my brother, Meg," asked Dean as he pulled out an old revolver.

Waving Grace's arms around the basement, the demon replied, _"As you can see, Dean, there's no one here but the three of us."_

As Dean leveled the colt in front of him, ready to fire at Grace's head, the demon raised up Grace's finger as if she just remembered something. _"Did I say three? I meant four. Pretty little Grace Wards is still in here."_ Grace could feel her finger tapping her temple though she had no control over it. _"Are you ready to kill her too, Dean? I thought you Winchesters were in the 'saving people' business. Or is that just a lie you tell yourself so you could sleep at night?"_ taunted the demon.

Dean lowered the colt and concealed it behind him again in a huff. "Let's exorcise this bitch already, Bobby," he growled.

" _Ooo, so impatient, Dean. But that's okay. I'll keep your place warm for you downstairs. After all, even if I don't escape again before that, you'll be joining us downstairs in a little over six months when the hellhounds come calling."_

Grace could see Dean's face flushed with anger, but he appeared powerless do anything else while Bobby began to chant in Latin. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas..."

An all consuming pain shot through Grace's body that not even the demon was immuned to. It was as if fire and needles flowed through her veins in place of blood. Grace's could hear her screams vibrating through the basement. Her hands tried to block out the chanting with little success. Her head wrecked this way and that way before it lifted up towards the ceiling as she let out another roaring scream. Her mouth strained against the pressure of being kept wide open as thick black smokes shot out of Grace's mouth. After what seemed like forever, it was over, and Grace's body unceremoniously slumped to the floor.

She had little energy left to try and open her eyes. Fingers were on her throat, checking her pulse, but Grace couldn't concentrate on anything but her labored breathing and thumping heartbeat. She could hear Bobby and Dean talking above her head.

"Looks like Sam and JJ rescued themselves….have to follow the tunnel...can't carry the girl up the stairs…"

"...watch your back, Bobby…."

Grace could feel herself being lifted up and carried before it was just darkness again.

The next time Grace's eyes opened, it was an action that she had controlled. She couldn't help but feel relieved at that, and she struggled not to burst into tears then and there. Someone had placed her in one of the chairs in the squad room. As her eyes swept across the room, Grace took in the similarly haunted faces of her colleagues. Her heart broke at the sight of Frank Forker, Cassie Malone, and Billy Jones's bodies laid off to the side.

Grace's attention was drawn by Agent...Hotchner talking to his agents and Dean...Winchester near the hallway leading to the entrance. "We need to leave. Garcia has something."

"But what about them?" asked the tall, skinny agent, Dr...Reid, as he gestured at Grace and her colleagues.

Bracing a hand on the desk in front of her and using it as support, Grace pushed herself up off the chair. "We'll be fine. You go do what you need to," she said as the agents all turned to her. She didn't want to do anything except for maybe sleep for an entire year, but with Forker gone, her people needed her, and she had to step up. It was the least she could do after what she, or her body, was responsible for for the past two weeks.

"If you're sure…" said Agent Hotchner hesitantly.

No, she wasn't sure at all, but Grace nodded away. After lingering for just a beat, the five FBI agents and Dean Winchester hurried out of the room.


	8. Denouement

_**Now:** _

_**Paul's Laundromat. November 1, 2007.** _

By the miracle of random electrical interferences via demons, the laundromat they had decided to use as their command center was closed. Of course, that wasn't a problem for Dean Winchester and his lock picking skills. The FBI agents present for the moment all begrudgingly turned a blind eye to the breaking and entering, but Garcia didn't really have a problem with a little law breaking every now and then. After all, she used to play for the other side before she was recruited by the FBI, and hacking is her middle name. While the others had gone off to storm the dungeon and slay the dragons, Penelope Garcia, esteemed technical analyst of the BAU, had stayed behind to be their eye in the sky, putting those hacking skills of hers to good use on the the police station security feed.

She and Agent Reidy, who had also stayed behind in the laundromat, watched as the others confronted the demons and secured the station. The suspense and anticipation of the take-down had Garcia's heart beating so fast she could still hear it pounding away in her ears. _Thump. Thump. Thump._

It took Garcia a moment to realize that the pounding wasn't her racing heart, but it was coming from below them, in the basement of the laundromat. Turning to the other agent, Garcia could see from Reidy's expressions that he had also heard the pounding noise.

"We have to check out whatever is making the noise," stated Reidy grimly.

"Fine," answered Garcia after a pause. "But you're the one with the gun so you lead the way."

They had just gotten off the last step into the basement-turned-storage space when the wall in front of Garcia and Reidy came crashing down, revealing two figures in the shadows.

Garcia and Reidy backed up the stairs a little before Reidy ordered, "Whoever you are, identify yourselves if you don't want to get shot in the next three seconds! One! Two! Thr-"

"Wait! Wait!" yelled a feminine voice. "My name is Jennifer Jareau, and I'm with the FB-"

Garcia didn't wait for JJ to finish before she pushed past Reidy and gathered the other woman in a tight hug. "JJ! So glad you're okay -" Garcia quickly pulled back to get a good look at her friend. "You're okay, right? Not creepily possessed or anything, right?"

Letting out a relieved laugh, JJ answered, "I'm okay. Definitely not possessed; I promise. I'm a damsel; I was in distress, and I handled it."

The technical analyst couldn't help but smile at the modified _Disney's Hercules_ quote JJ added for her benefit. Garcia quickly caught her friend's eyes to let JJ know that her message was received and much appreciated.

JJ then turned to the young man beside her and introduced him to Garcia and Reidy, who had approached the group. "And you know Sam Winchester."

"Hi," said Sam with a little wave. "I'm not possessed either, if you're worried."

"Let's get out if this old basement and back upstairs," suggested Reidy as he headed to the stairs.

Keeping a firm hand on JJ to reassure herself that her friend was there with her, Garcia followed. "Right. The others will want to know you two are safe." Garcia quickly tapped the headset of her comms to Hotch and said, "Sir, you and the others should head back to Laundromat HQ. There's something here you all need to see."

Before they could have gotten far, a cluttering noise echoed out from the ominous dark hole, stopping them in their tracks. A low beam of light shone out from the tunnel. "Sam? JJ?"

"Bobby?" Sam asked the whispering figure.

The familiar figure of the older hunter stepped out from the tunnel into the old basement. When he caught sight of Sam, JJ, Reidy, and Garcia on the stairs leading up to the laundromat, Bobby said, "Well, I'll be damn."

When they had regrouped up in the main area of the laundromat, the rest of the BAU, Henriksen, and Dean were already waiting by the counter where Garcia's laptop was setup.

"Look who decided to rescue themselves," presented Garcia as she waved her hands at JJ and Sam. "But you guys did good on storming the dungeon and slaying the dragon, too," she added with good humor. She was in a much better mood now that her team was safely united. Garcia watched with satisfaction as Hotch, Morgan, Rossi, Reid, and Prentiss each took turn pulling JJ in for a hug while the Winchester brothers and Bobby also had their own reunion to the side.

It didn't take long before the happy moment was broken up though. Standing between his brother and JJ, Sam addressed the group standing in the makeshift circle. "I know we were hoping our problem was over, but we need to leave and not be _**here**_ when Lilith arrives tomorrow."

"Lilith?" asked Dean. "What does Lilith have to do with anything."

Garcia didn't know who this Lilith the Winchesters were talking about was, but if she was another demon, that wouldn't be good at all.

Catching his brother's eyes, Sam continued, "Apparently, Meg and Lilith made some kind of deal, and Lilith's coming here tomorrow. We need to get out of here before she arrives." Sam turned to JJ and added, "You guys should too. Just get out of town today before the sun sets."

"But what about the shambled police station and the traumatized officers? We can't just leave them," said Garcia. Her team had been called to Dumfries to help; they couldn't just abandon everyone here.

"Look," started Sam, "I don't know if Lilith is really involved or if Meg was lying, but it's best for everyone involved if none of us are still here when, or if, she shows up.

"Then, I'd say you all better leave soon," said a voice from the entrance.

They all spun around at the sound, and Garcia realized it was Captain Wards, weary and pale from her ordeal, but she stood strong. "We'll manage. We'll come up with a story for the station. The lack of news coverage due to the electrical interferences will make it easier to keep a lid on things. We'll manage," she repeated again.

**xxxxxx**

The farewells didn't take long after Captain Wards's insistence that she and the surviving Dumfries officers could handle the ensuing cleanup themselves. Agents Henriksen and Reidy had already left for Quantico moments before. Henriksen had appeared reluctant to leave. Dean assumed it was because the agent hadn't been able to see Dean and his brother off in chains like the man kept on threatening, but given their recent experience together, the Winchesters' longtime pursuers had little choice but to turn the other way.

Bobby had also said his good-byes and left for Singer Salvage Yard not long after. The only ones left in the parking lot were the members of the BAU, Sam, and Dean, or rather, the BAU team was waiting in their SUVs for JJ, and Sam was waiting in the Impala for Dean.

It was the first time through the whole crazy ordeal that the two former lovers had a moment alone together. Dean just wished they weren't being watched by JJ's team and his brother. "Hey," he said as he shuffled his hands into his pants pockets awkwardly.

JJ let out a small laugh. "You're just as eloquent as I remember."

"Hey!" Dean said again, this time with mock indignation. Letting out a sigh, he continued, "You look good. It's good to see you again, although the circumstances could have been better."

JJ tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear before she replied, "Yeah, maybe the next time we meet up, it'll be without the demons and monsters."

"I don't know," Dean joked. "They've always been kind of our thing."

The two traded a wistful look. In that loaded, silent moment, Dean thought of everything that they had had years ago and the moments that they could have had if he hadn't walked away. They both knew that it was too late for any _what-ifs_ or _maybes_. They were two different people now on two different paths. Dean would always loved JJ, and when he thought of her, there would always be that nostalgia for the days they spent together, but no matter how much he wished it wasn't so, their moment together had passed.

Breaking eye contact, JJ glanced back at her waiting team before she turned to Dean again. With a sad smile on her face, she leaned in close and gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek. Dean closed his eyes at soft touch of her lips against his face.

"Thank you for letting me say good-bye this time," JJ whispered softly as she pulled back.

When Dean opened his eyes again, JJ was already halfway to her team's SUVs.

He watched as she got into the front passenger seat of one of the SUVs. When Dean saw JJ raised her hand in a small wave to him, he did the same before he headed for the Impala where Sam was waiting.

He got in the driver seat and started the engine, but waited for the BAU to leave before Dean pulled out of the police parking lot and onto the highway.

They drove for a while in silence before Sam none-to-subtly cleared his throat. "You know, I'm picking our next case," he said.

"What?" asked Dean, slightly confused. He wasn't sure where Sam was coming from or going with that statement.

Turning to Dean, Sam clarified, "You're not choosing our next case. I mean, Lisa Braeden in Cicero, Indiana. JJ in Dumfries, Virginia. Which one of your ex-girlfriends are we going to run into next? No, I think it's best if I pick the next case."

Dean realized Sam was trying to lighten the mood, and he couldn't help but smile a little at his little brother. "No, no," Dean rebuked, "I didn't go looking for JJ. Dumfries was your idea, not mine. You're not going to blame that on me."

"Jerk," said Sam.

"Bitch," Dean replied with a smirk.

As they continued to follow the highway, driving towards their next case, an unfamiliar wistful song played on on their radio.

" _You and I were never meant to be together_

_And now, it's time for me to go_

_But, deep in my heart, you will always stay forever_

_In another time; in another place…"_

**xxxxxx**

**Author's Note:** It's done! After four and a half years, this fic is finally done! Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or followed _Secrets of the Night._ I've finished my first multi-chapters fic, and it was a brutal but learning experience. Real life, writer's block, and procrastination are very real things, and they are the reasons for this story's long hiatus. It took me two and a half years for _Chapter 5,_ and I didn't want to post it and have you wait another two years for _Chapter 6,_ so I had decided to post the remaining four chapters when I was done with them so that you would get the completed fic. Now, it's done.

Some last few housekeeper items. I'm a big fan of Lisa and Ben Braeden, so they still happened, both before the events of this fic in Season 3 and later in Seasons 5 and 6.

 **1999:** Dean's "five days, five states, though most of those times were spent at Lisa Braeden's loft"

 **Summer 2000:** Dean met JJ. Originally, I had planned on writing a prequel with the events of their first meeting, but since I no longer have the motivation nor ideas that I had had four years ago when I thought of it, here are some notes that I did make for that unwritten fic:

Dean and JJ met when JJ and her parents went camping in Kenora, Ontario, Canada, where an encounter with a wendigo happened. Bobby and Dean were on the hunt for it, though at first, they thought it might be a werewolf (full moon, July 16, 2000), but no hearts were missing. John and Sam were having their many rows again so Dean peaced out for the summer with Bobby (which turned into two years with JJ). The incident with the wendigo was how JJ developed her fears for the woods and lost her father.

 **November 10, 2002:** When this fic started with Dean leaving

 **Early October, 2007:** _Supernatural_ 's "The Kids Are Alright" episode

 **October 27 - November 1, 2007:** The main events of this fic

Sometimes between November 1, 2007, and the events of _Criminal Minds_ ' episode "In Heat" (Apr. 30, 2008), JJ began dating Detective William LaMontagne, Jr., who she met in "Jones" (Feb. 28, 2007), since her complicated relationship with Dean was finally resolved. Both timelines for _Supernatural_ and _Criminal Minds_ shift back to canon compliant.

The lines of the song at the end of this chapter is "In Another Time" by Jodie Simmons.

And that is it! Thank you everyone who read, are still here reading, and will read this fic.


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